


Dragon Age: Apocalypse

by FereldensApostate



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Avvar, Avvar Pantheon, Blood Magic, Dark Magic, Darkspawn, Dragon Age Lore, Eventual Relationships, Eventual Romance, F/M, Fluff and Humor, Gen, Grey Warden Joining, Mages and Templars, Magister Hawke, Meredith Stanton Being an Asshole, Minor Character Death, Modern Kirkwall (Dragon Age), Modern Thedas, Post-Apocalypse, Post-Blight, minor fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-26
Updated: 2019-06-29
Packaged: 2019-08-29 21:24:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 47,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16751743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FereldensApostate/pseuds/FereldensApostate
Summary: "...not all mirrors lead back to our world. The ancients were nothing if not resourceful."Enter a modern, post-apocalyptic Thedas. One still reeling from the aftershocks of a decades-long blight. Entire nations have been lost. The new leaderless darkspawn act more like mindless zombies. Eluvians appear...in the back of a Penske?





	1. The Fall of Red Lion

The spirits speak that magic is what befell the human world long ago. But as Salem ar Red Lion overlooked the decimation of her hold, she couldn’t fathom how magic could be nearly as destructive as the darkspawn. She was an Avvar, she’d seen battle. She’d fought foes of nearly every race and background. Before today, she would have counted the Chantry as her greatest enemy. But not now. Even the zealotry of those bigots was no match for the depravity she witnessed.

It didn’t matter who was in their path. Elders, younglings, fishermen, warriors, they were all the same. A few of them had been lucky enough to escape—if you could call it that…but Salem forced herself to watch. She couldn’t stop what was happening, she was just one person after all. She didn’t even have a legend-mark to her name. But she would remember. She would conjure these dark memories when next she battled these foul abominations and again and again until every last one was struck from this land.

The voice of the Elder Shaman called out to her, but she barely heard him. Whether from the dark cacophony coming from the valley below or the thoughts screaming at her in her own mind, it was impossible to tell. “On your feet, we’re moving.”

Salem didn’t turn to look at him, but something in the way he breathed told her he’d finally noticed what she’d been doing. She could practically feel his anger arising. “What. Have. You. Done.”

She didn’t even flinch a reaction to his words. For a moment he worried she had actually killed herself in the process. But as he looked over her shoulder, he saw the object of the sacrifice. A severed Hurlock’s head. Salem’s hunting knife stuck through the skull, pining it to the center of the ritual circle drawn in black blood. Darkspawn blood. His gaze slowly rose to her face, terrified of what he’d see. But it only delayed the inevitable. A single stream of that black blood seeped from the corner of her mouth. Her pale skin appeared irritated by it, but it didn’t seem to affect her. Her once hazel eyes now held an ice blue color that seemed to glow unnaturally. 

The shaman glared furiously at her. How dare she bring such a danger upon them. Defiling herself in this manner was one thing, but invoking the god of winter and war? Pure insanity. He opened his mouth to scold her but the tremendous roar echoing across the valley demanded his full attention. Salem simply smirked, her gaze never leaving her ruined hold. She delighted in watching the darkspawn scurry around in fear—if they were even capable of feeling that. 

The trees shook violently as the giant, blue dragon suddenly tore through them. Large branches fell in its wake, creating loud booms as they finally hit the valley floor several seconds later. The dragon circled the hold like a predator. Its breath formed a thick wall of ice, trapping the darkspawn inside. 

_Like fish in a barrel_ , Salem mused delightfully.

The dragon swooped down repeatedly. Shaman and lowly auger watched as the avatar of their war god froze their enemies solid, shredded them to pieces with its claws, or simply bit them in half. Finally, all that was left was the ogre. The massive monster that broke down their gates and doomed them all. The dragon dived towards it. The ogre attempted to grapple the dragon but it was no use. The dragon lifted the ogre high into the air, only to nose-dive directly for an enormous ice spike. The ogre cried out as it was impaled, but it didn’t fight long. As its body went limp, the dragon swooped up again. It landed upon the ruined building that once housed the Thane and let out a tremendous, triumphant roar. 

The Shaman appeared terrified, he tried to pull Salem with him as he fled but she remained in place. It was as if she were made of solid rock. “Spirits forgive me.” He muttered as he took off in a dead sprint up the mountain. He chanced one final look behind him.

Salem stood upright now. Her arms were outstretched and her head tilted towards the dark sky. The dragon rose suddenly in front of her. It hovered there for a moment, as if it were studying Salem. Suddenly its head lurched back, gurgling as it charged its breath once more. The Shaman was certain that it was the end for her, she’d surely be obliterated by such a powerful attack. 

But as the icy breath enveloped her, she remained unharmed. He could still see her silhouette through the wind. The seconds ticked by slowly as the Shaman waited for the dragon’s breath to dissipate. Once it did, the dragon seemed to acknowledge Salem respectfully with a nod before flapping its wings and disappearing into the night sky once again. 

It was the first time he had seen her move of her own volition. She staggered back once, but caught her balance quickly. She seemed to be studying her hands, a frosty mist enveloped them now. She closed her hands into fists and the magic waned. She slowly turned to the Shaman now. The look on her face appeared forcibly distant. 

“Lead our people through the eastern passages. Seek out the Mahariel Clan in the forest. They will suffer our fate if they do not move quickly.”

The Shaman swallowed nervously. Her voice was so certain, almost commanding. This was not the small cub he had watched grow within the hold. “Your spirit told you that?”

“He did.”

“He told you about that ritual too, didn’t he?” He snapped angrily.

Salem took a couple of steps closer to him. He expected her to lash out at him, as was her typical behavior when questioned about her spirit. But instead she spoke calmly to him. “My path diverts from yours here. I…may not return to the hold for some time.”

The Shaman looked upon her bitterly. “You can’t just leave your people!”

“The people that chastise me? Ridicule me? Speak of me only in hushed whispers? Exclude me from our sacred festivals? I believe I very much can.” She took a final step closer to him, a scowl forming on her face. “I’ve never asked you for anything but I am asking now: let me go. Count me as a casualty if it makes you sleep better. But understand that I will leave this mountainside with a purpose. My spirit has spoken and Haakon…” She glanced down at her hand, flexing her fingers as she spoke. “…has granted me his favor.”

Her words clearly angered him at first but the Shaman’s demeanor quickly softened. “This was not the course I wanted for you.”

“My course was never yours to decide.”

“Perhaps not…” The old man looked at his young pupil with sad eyes. He clasped a hand on her shoulder. “May your spirit guide you well. I’ll pray that you keep the gods’ favor…Wintersbreath.”

Salem stared at him questioningly.

The Shaman forced a small smile and a nonchalant shrug. “Well, I don’t see how any of your future heroic deeds will overshadow that display.”

She seemed to consider his words as she looked down upon the ruined hold once again. “Salem Wintersbreath…”

“Ar Red Lion.” The Shaman sighed. “No matter what you become, you’ll always be one of us…We’ve simply lost too many today to exile someone for such transgressions.”

Salem smiled sadly. “Take care of our people, Elder.”

He nodded to her curtly before turning quickly and trekking up the mountain. Salem watched him walk away for a few long moments. A sudden sense of regret washed over her. For a moment, self-depreciating thoughts nearly consumed her.

_“Hush, child. You are too hard on yourself.”_

The calming voice of her spirit brought no small amount of comfort to her. Her smile wasn’t so sad this time. “Where do we go now?”

_“To the north. There’s a city there called Lothering. You’ll find other Wardens there.”_

“A lowlander settlement? How will we get passed the wall?”

_“Here I thought walls weren’t a problem for avvar.” The spirit chuckled a little once he saw her smile return to her face. “But regardless it won’t be a problem. The darkspawn will have broken through there. The Wardens move to battle the monsters even now as we speak. It is imperative that we move quickly.”_

Salem took a deep breath as she looked upon the northern path. She’d never traversed it before, in fact the hold had strict rules to avoid it at all costs. The horror stories the elders used to tell flooded her mind suddenly. 

_“Be brave, child. You can do this. I believe in you.”_

“Thank you, Duncan.” Salem focused her attention on the path again, intent on fulfilling her purpose. She pulled her bloody, tattered cloak around her chest. With certain steps, she began her journey to Lothering.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you wondering, in this version the Joining ritual does work differently here and for good reason. Keep reading to find out more :)


	2. An Alliance of Necessity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After being exiled, Fenris and Dorian try to survive...together...

“Let’s find the avvars!’, he said. ‘They’ll take us in!’, he said.” Fenris complained aloud.

Dorian scoffed, futilely attempting to place a chuck of his matted hair behind his ear. “Well it seemed a bloody better idea then ‘find the Dalish savages’!”

“Right. Because more human mages are exactly what we need right now.”

“You want to go live in a fucking treehouse? Be my guest.”

“A fucking treehouse would likely have better company. And you wouldn’t last one day out here without—”

Before he could finish his thought, Fenris’s foot was suddenly engulfed in something brutally cold and wet. Water poured over his boot instantly.

“Fenhedis!” Fenris shouted angrily at the offending puddle of mud. He looked upon his now soaked boots with a scowl. A shiver set into his bones almost immediately. “Fucking Ferelden Fucking Forest!”

“Yes,” Dorian replied, rolling his eyes. “Do keep shouting. I’m sure the darkspawn haven’t heard us yet.”

The half-elf’s posture grew aggressive almost instantly. He very nearly spat his words at his reluctant companion. “Do not test me, mage. I will rip your fucking heart out.”

“Ha! And then where would you be?” Dorian carefully stepped around the puddle. It proved difficult as a sudden dizzy spell hit him...it had been far too long since their rations ran out. He recovered quickly enough to quip at Fenris again. “Unless you’ve miraculously developed the ability to conjure water in the last few thousand days.”

“12.”

“Pardon?”

“12 days.” Fenris begrudgingly continued down the ruined roadside. The frigid water sloshed around in his boots with every movement. He wondered if it wouldn’t have been more beneficial to him to discard them now…Without his permission, his mind recalled the memory tied to them.

_Her soft, pale hands presented the box to him. The decorative covering must have been hard to come by, but the bow…was that handmade? It looked familiar…Her melodic voice forced his attention to her once again. “Well? Would you like to open it?”_

_The corner of his mouth curved in a small smile. She gave him a choice, even for the simplest of things. There was always the option of refusal with her, always a way out. It was a small thing in the grand scheme of it all, but it meant the world to him. He loved that about her._

_“It’s…for me?”_

_“It’s a present.” She clarified. Her red lips slowly grew a prideful smirk. “It’s your birthday.”_

_“My…? Oh…”_

_Something she read on his face must have worried her. She began rambling, a tell-tale sign of her nervousness. He’d seen this woman lie blatantly to a room full of her fellow magisters without so much as an involuntary twitch. But whatever the reason, she seemed to lose all sense of composure when she was with him. Another small thing…another thing to love._

_“Well, I, um—you were supposed to like it. Um, not that it’s wrong for you not to like it. Because you can. Not like it. Um, I just uh, I wanted to do something special—”_

_“Amatus,” He replied with a chuckle as he took the box from her. “Let me open it before you give away the surprise.” He gave her a playful smirk. An attempt to calm her nerves._

_“Right. Sorry.” She let out a relieved sigh and moved to sit in front of the fireplace._

_He examined the box, turning it from one side to the other. “How do I…? I don’t want to break it.”_

_“Oh, the wrapping paper? You’re supposed to.”_

_He cocked an eyebrow at her. “You wrapped the box in something that I’m supposed to break?”_

_“Well, when you put it like that, it does sound…idiotic.”_

_When she looked up at him, her amber eyes were shining brightly. She was happy, she was laughing. At that moment he couldn’t think of any better present in this blighted world. He smiled down at her uncontrollably. Before he even knew he was moving he had sat down in front of her, as if it were some subconscious need to be near her. He reluctantly forced his attention to the box again. “So,” He chuckled. “I’m really supposed to just…rip it off?”_

_“Really, really.”_

_“Hmph. Alright then…” He slowly moved his hand to the corner of the box, hooking his fingertip in the folded end. He eyed her mischievously. “You’re certain you want me to destroy it?”_

_She smirked in response, slowly speaking so she could choose her words carefully. “Well…yes, you are supposed to destroy the wrapping paper…”_

_“You’re truly certain?”_

_Her smirk grew bigger. “Truly, truly.”_

_“Then I suppose you asked for it.” He sighed dramatically, waiting a moment to draw out the tension. Then suddenly, he tore the paper to shreds. The pieces were sent scattering in seemingly every direction. It was like a blizzard around them. Her laughter echoed off the walls. “You are so—”_

_She stopped suddenly, noticing that he had opened the box as well. He heard her gasp quietly, he was certain he could almost hear her heartbeat. He stared upon the boots incredulously. He hadn’t said anything, he wouldn’t have dared. How did she know?_

_“Ash…these are…” He huffed a small laugh. “I…’thank you’ seems insufficient.”_

_She smiled brightly, but still she remained tense. “I saw you looking at them the other day. I don’t know if they’ll fit, but we can bring them to the shoemaker if they don’t.”_

_“They’re perfect.” He ran his fingers over the metallic armor. They were sturdy, warm, something Carver would surely call ‘ass-kickers’. His smile faded slightly, despite his happiness. His voice turned bitter. “But you know I cannot take them with me…Danarius wouldn’t stand for it.”_

_She curled her legs to her chest. For a moment, he thought she might cry. His mind began running through any possible thing to say to make her feel better. But before he could, she spoke again. “Well, then, it’s a good thing that wasn’t your only present…”_

_He examined the box again, this time noticing the paper beneath the boots. He set his new prized possessions carefully to the side. They landed on the marble floor with a pronounced thunk. He looked over the paper carefully in his hands. He struggled to read it, but the words were so lengthy it seemed an impossible task. “What is this?”_

_“It’s a letter of emancipation.” She said quietly, as if she were afraid anything louder would set off an enormous explosion._

_“I…don’t understand…” A small lie. Logic all but confirmed it, of course. But he couldn’t dare get his hopes up._

_“As of this morning, Danarius no longer owns you. You’re a free man, Fenris.”_

_He just stared at her for a moment, his jaw hanging open slightly. So many thoughts ran through his mind in an instant. Too many to even attempt a coherent sentence. Somehow the news felt like a weight lifting from him and crushing him all at once. “I don’t know what to do.”_

_“Well,” She smiled weakly. Her attempt to keep her mood light despite the obvious signs that she’s as nervous as she’s ever been. “If you’d like…I was hoping you might want to stay here…? With me…?”_

_“With you?!” His expression widened in shock. “That’s—no, you can’t do that. People will talk. You’d be making yourself a target…I can’t let you do that.”_

_“My choice, Fenris. It’s your choice to accept the invitation or…do whatever else it is that you want.”_

_To her credit, she was holding her emotions in remarkably well. Even now she was worried about influencing him. So considerate even in the face of potential heartbreak…he loved her for that._

_He looked at the paper again. How long had she been working on this? How many favors? What had she promised? …And she’d done it all for him._

_“I don’t care what people say.” She said quietly. “And if I’m a target of whatever machinations these vultures cook up then so be it.”_

_“Why?”_

_“What?”_

_He carefully set the letter on the floor beside him. “I want to know why you did this.”_

_She sighed nervously. “Well, I would have thought that was obvious by now.”_

_“I want to hear it.” He leaned towards her as he spoke. He rested his hands on either side of her curled legs._

_“Well, what if it freaks you out?”_

_“I haven’t run from you yet.”_

_She smirked. “Not yet…”_

_“Ashley.”_

_She took a deep breath. Slowly she brought her gaze to him and looked him in the eye. “I love you.”_

“—ris! You blasted fool, don’t get me killed now!” Dorian’s voice whispered harshly.

In an instant, she was gone again. The warmth of the fire was replaced by the chill of the southern forest. The sudden realization that he had zoned out sent his senses flaring. His eyes darted around, trying to find what Dorian seemed to be agitated about.

The mage tugged on his arm again, more insistently this time. “Come on! Move it!”

He opened his mouth to scold Dorian for touching him. But before he could get a word out, a chilling sound echoed through the forest. The combined growling hiss of a horde of darkspawn. The echo made it hard to pinpoint the direction. Fear set his heart racing instantly.

Dorian tugged him again. “This way! We have to hide!”

Fenris followed without question this time, taking off in a dead sprint after his companion. Dorian didn’t have to tell him what his plan was. He was heading straight for the ruined car they had passed just moments ago. Fenris vaguely remembered a conversation about how stupid the ancient humans used to be. What purpose could a black film over the windows serve?

A scream suddenly pierced through the darkspawn’s steadily increasing noise. Human. A man. Poor soul. He was doomed. But it wasn’t their problem.

Dorian reached the car before he did. He struggled with opening the rusted door, but just barely he managed. “Shit!”

“What?!” As Fenris opened the door on his side, he answered his own question. Inside the car were a pair of skeletons…each had bullet-sized holes in the sides of their skulls. “Just get rid of them!”

Dorian hesitated for a moment. But with a mumbled curse, he chucked the skeleton unceremoniously from the seat. “The windshield…?”

Fenris scowled, anger returning to his face once more. “What’s the fucking purpose of leaving one fucking window—”

A tremendous roar suddenly erupted nearby. An ogre. It had to be.

“Debate ancient idiocy later! Get in the back!” Dorian scolded as he fumbled with the mechanism on the seat to lower it.

Fenris pulled roughly on his seat until it gave in and dived in the back. Seeing Dorian struggle, he kicked his seat down for him and yanked him inside. Each quickly lurched forward and slammed their doors shut. Neither made a sound as they watched for any sign of the horde.

They didn’t have to wait long. After just a couple of tense moments, they watched a human man sprint desperately across the ruined road. The armor gave him away as a templar. Must have been out here with a mining team. Probably all dead now. But him, that is, for now. He barreled towards the Wall. Fenris and Dorian looked at each other, having a silent conversation about how utterly fucked he was.

The darkspawn emerged into view just a few dozen paces behind him. The hurlocks followed the doomed man closely, trailed by the staggering genlocks, a handful of floating emissaries and finally one big ass ogre. The car rattled as the lumbering brute passed over the road.

They quickly lost sight of the templar, but the darkspawn clearly didn’t. They pursued him right up to the wall. They expected to see a feeding frenzy, but instead the darkspawn began pounding at the wall. Fenris looked to Dorian confused, but Dorian already had it figured. As quietly as he could possibly whisper he explained himself simply. “A door.”

Fenris looked back at the scene before them with this new understanding. A new wave of horror drifted over the two of them, haunting them like a horrid nightmare. But it was real. And they were powerless to stop it. All they could do was hope beyond hope that the wall held strong and protected the people behind it.


	3. Lothering: Pretty as a Painting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is going to introduce a minor character. You are either going to find him entertaining...or want to stab him in the book, repeatedly. He also curses, a lot. I apologize in advance. Thanks to everyone who's been reading either here or on FanFiction! It seriously makes my day knowing at least some of you enjoyed it.

As soon as he stepped through the Eluvian, Myrris knew that this world was going to be…interesting. The kind of interesting that would likely give him a great story to tell the Inquisition whenever he finally got back to Thedas. A quick look around at the dark space confirmed that this world would have been far too ‘modern’ for his homeland. 

It appeared that this Eluvian was housed in…was this the back of a moving truck? “Really?! Who puts an Eluvian in the back of a Penske?!”

His voice seemed to echo oddly. Not just inside the truck itself, but it seemed to ring out further. He waited for a moment. But he heard no other voices or movement anywhere near him or the truck. “Probably in some kind of hollow structure…a garage, maybe?”

Using the glow from the Eluvian as his only light source, Myrris approached the sliding door. He fumbled around the dusty thing for a second but there seemed to be no latch or lever to free himself. The elf rolled his eyes in annoyance.

He turned back to the mirror and yelled towards it. “Hey! What the shit am I supposed to do here?”

The mirror remained unchanged, glowing almost eerily in the darkness surrounding it. No response came from the other side.

“Hey!” He shouted again as he stomped over to the mirror. “Falon’Fuck! What are you—”

He was maybe one or two steps away from the mirror when the glow suddenly died, leaving him in darkness. It made Myrris stop in his tracks. A bad feeling washed over him. “No…no, no, no!”

A sudden crack formed violently in the mirror. It spread until the glass shattered to pieces and fell to the truck bed. Myrris just stared for an uncharacteristically quiet minute. But then of course the shouting began once again. “REALLY?! ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?! YOU MASSIVE FUCKING ASSHOLE!”

His voice echoed much father this time. On the street below the ruined parking garage, a patrolling templar stopped and stared up in the direction of the sound. He removed his helmet from his head, hoping to get a better sense of what he had heard. Surely no sane person would be hanging out in that structure. The place was condemned after all. It was likely to collapse at any moment.

“Knight-Lieutenant! Put your helmet back on and keep moving!” Meredith’s snappy voice called out to him, seemingly degrading him even without using the words to do so.

“But I thought…did you hear that?” 

“The only thing I hear, Alistair, is the sound of your procrastination.” Even with her face still covered by her helmet he could tell she was scowling at him. “I won’t tell you again.”

“Right, right. Forget I asked.” Alistair begrudgingly slipped his helmet back on. “I’m just saying if there’s an apostate in there summoning some giant, slobbering darkspawn, I’m going to say I told you so.”

“Knight-Lieutenant. How you were possibly able to receive your rank is beyond me, but I would strongly suggest you not color your first assignment by disobeying orders.”

Despite her very obvious discontentment with him, Alistair decided to keep prodding the bear. Or perhaps, the bitch in this case. “Well, technically the commander said to patrol the block. Seeing as how the old garage is in fact within the block—”

“You would do well to follow your orders to the letter. Perhaps one day you’ll earn a posting that doesn’t require you to be babysat, orphan.”

“Ouch.”

Having been thoroughly shut down, Alistair resigned himself to focusing on the task before him. Which evidently consisted of simply walking the streets of Lothering in the area in which he was assigned; saying nothing, doing nothing, but somehow looking imposing. Truly stimulating work to be sure. Really, nothing ever happens here. If it weren’t for the Lady Seeker now breathing down the Knight-Commander’s neck, Alistair was certain that he’d be sitting on his hiney somewhere in the Chantry, carefully timing and preparing for the next shrill scream he’d let out just to break the bloody silence. 

He contemplated doing it right out in the open here. But one look in Knight-Captain Meredith’s direction made him think better of it. He sighed quietly to himself, contemplating the dull existence he was chained to…why was he even in this damned town anyway? The only one worth staying for left years ago after all…

Alistair’s depressive thoughts were suddenly interrupted by—incredibly—something happening. The watchtower on the wall suddenly sounded the alarm. Whether it was darkspawn attacking the gate or invading avvar it was impossible to tell at the moment. But either way it would at least prove interesting.

Meredith shot a red flare up into the air. The signal to the other templars that someone was answering the distress. “Double-time, Lieutenant!”

She didn’t wait for his response before she took off towards the tower, shoving the already frightened civilians out of her way harshly. Alistair really hoped someone up in the tower was simply sounding the alarm because they desperately needed to relieve themselves or something equally insignificant. 

Upon seeing the signal flare, the guards in the watchtower dulled the alarm a bit. A sign that something is still wrong, but it’s being handled. Handled by Meredith. I’m sure they’re thrilled.

Alistair jogged a few paces behind her. His conscience wouldn’t allow him to treat these poor people so disrespectfully as Meredith had. “Please, don’t panic. You all know what to do. Make your way to the shelter beneath the Chantry. We will let you know when the threat has passed.”

Despite his best attempts to calm the agitated crowd, they did in fact begin to panic. The people began running past him, making it difficult to keep to his path. Meredith would surely have his hide now. Figures. But he pressed on, trying his best to hug the wall and stay out of the stampede’s way. 

Through the frightened noises of the crowd, one voice stood out. A little kid was huddled by the wall, wailing for his mother. Couldn’t have been more than 3 or 4 years old. As Alistair pushed his way up to him, the kid looked almost hopeful. Way to pull at the feels, kid.

Even with the threat of earning Meredith’s ire, Alistair couldn’t stop himself from trying to help the kid. He knelt down and removed his helmet. “Hey there, little guy. Where’s your mother?”

The kid sniffled uncontrollably. He simply pointed toward the middle of the street. He didn’t notice her at first but in the midst of the stampeding crowd, a blonde woman lay curled up on the ground. People were tripping or stepping over her without a regard for her at all. It nearly boiled Alistair’s blood. He turned back to the sobbing kid and grasped his little shoulders encouragingly. “I’m gonna go get her, alright? Can you stay here and be really, really brave?”

The kid’s eyes lit up, for a moment he stopped crying. He blinked the tears out of his eyes and nodded excitedly. Alistair smiled a little and patted him on the back. “Good lad.”

He turned his attention back to the boy’s mother. With a deep breath to prepare himself, he dived into the crowd. He forcefully shoved his way to the poor woman as quickly as he could manage. Once he found his footing again, he screamed angrily at the frightened people. “I just told you specifically not to panic!”

Now that he stood between her and the crowd, he clearly saw the extent of her injuries. She was bloodied, bruises had already begun forming on her arms but she slowly got to her feet now that Alistair had given her the opportunity. Her movements were staggered but she didn’t ask for help. She grunted in pain and Alistair reached to help steady her almost reflexively. “I’m so, so, so, sorry for this. I told them not to panic! I just—sorry, are you alright?”

He helped her shuffle to the side of the street where the kid waited for them. The moment she leaned against the nearest building the kid came running up to her. “Mama!”

Despite her injured state, she picked up the boy and hugged him to her chest. “Shh, it’s alright, baby, I’m here.”

Alistair couldn’t help but smile pridefully. This templar thing usually sucked raw eggs but at least now he knew he did something good. The boy’s mother seemed to suddenly remember her rescuer and turned her attention to him. “Ser Templar, I can’t thank you enough for…Alistair?”

Now that he actually got a good look at her face he realized he did in fact recognize her. Which was great…but also awkward… “S-Solona? I—um—I mean, hi! It’s, um, good to see you! You look great!”

Solona smiled politely. “Despite my nearly trampled-to-death-state, I assume?”

Alistair laughed nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. “Uh, yeah, right. I-I mean of course you do! You always looked good. Like now, right, especially now…”

The little boy giggled at him. “You’re funny.”

Solona nearly laughed there. It had been a few years since he’d seen her last but somehow Alistair still remember all of her little quirks, her facial expressions, everything. She didn’t have a kid back then though, that was…different, to say the least. “Alistair, this is my son, Ayden. Ayden, this is Alistair. He’s…” She hesitated for a moment, obviously trying to figure out how to explain to her small child what an ex-boyfriend is. 

“He saved you!” Ayden exclaimed excitedly. “He’s a hero!”

“I—uh—well, I mean any templar would have done that, really.”

Ayden’s little expression grew angrily suddenly. “Nuh-uh! The lady was mean!”

“Shh,” Solona said, rubbing Ayden’s back. “It’s alright now.” She shifted uncomfortably on her feet. A small grunt escaped her throat.

“Look, I um—you really should see a healer. Can I take you there? I-I mean with the crowds and all, you, um, could use some, um, help?” Alistair was on the verge of hitting himself from how badly he was rambling. But instead he settled for rubbing the back of his neck again. Because you know, that definitely looks cool, you blighted idiot. 

Solona smiled as brightly as she could manage. “We’d appreciate that, Alistair. I suddenly have no desire to walk down a crowded street ever again.”

She pushed herself off the wall slowly. Alistair made sure to keep himself between her and the rest of the people on the street. The crowd had dispersed considerably in the past couple of minutes but it didn’t stop him from feeling a little overprotective. Not that he had any right to feel that way now…blast it! Not the time, you idiot!

Solona only managed a couple of steps on her own before she had to lean on the wall again. “I’m fine, I promise.” She said before Alistair even asked.

“I could carry you?” Alistair somehow said without his usual stuttering. But the moment Solona looked up at him again it came right back. “I-I mean, um, if you want—or I mean, need to—I’m gonna shut up now.”

Solona seemed to study the length of street left to traverse and sighed heavily. “I’m sorry to ask, but If you don’t mind…?”

Alistair laughed nervously. “What? Really? I mean, ahem. Of course, sure, yeah.”

Ayden giggled at him again. Solona smiled gratefully as hooked her arm around his shoulders. She hugged Ayden to her chest as Alistair picked up her legs. “Thank you, Alistair.”

“Oh, um, You’re wel—ah!” Alistair’s response was cut off by Ayden scrambling up to sit on his shoulders, using his head as leverage and giggling the whole way up.

Solona seemed as though she was about to scold him, but the sudden sound of sirens blaring again cut her off. But this time it wasn’t just one of the watch towers, it was all of them. The color drained out of Alistair’s face. He slowly turned toward the wall…no way this was happening. 

“Alistair?” Solona asked, trying to hide the worry in her voice. “What is it? What does that mean?”

Of course, she wouldn’t know. She’d hadn’t been to the city in nearly 5 years, and it wasn’t real common knowledge to begin with. Seeing as how it should be, you know, impossible. He couldn’t respond for a moment, he was seemingly frozen. He watched the crack form in the wall, watched it spread quickly. Alistair turned around again and started walking quickly.

“Alistair?”

“Nothing.”

“Alistair…”

“Nope, nothing to see. Everything is fine. This is fine.”

A huge, booming noise erupted from the wall as it began to collapse. Alistair hadn’t planned on looking back at the scene, but an odd…what was that? A…scream? Two screams? What?

Ayden evidently turned around before Alistair did because he began to cackle with laughter. Whatever he was seeing was obviously hilarious to him. Alistair at first didn’t believe it, but incredibly, one of those old, broken cars was flying through the air. It was barreling towards them, flipping repeatedly like a large, metallic ragdoll.

Solona must have seen it too. He felt her tense before she ripped Ayden down from his perch, securing him to her chest again. “Alistair!” 

The bloody templars did not train him for this! The impending danger seemed to hit him all at once. His heart felt as if it had skipped a beat or two. He looked around for some kind of escape. It was far too late to try and make it to the Chantry now. But time was running out. In just a few seconds, they’d likely be crushed by the huge projectile.

The building next to them seemed to be boarded up. Figures. But there appeared to be an alleyway just a few feet ahead of them. Alistair gripped his charges tightly and sprinted for the alley. It turned out only to be a shallow alcove, however. Barely big enough for the three of them. He tucked Solona and Ayden into the corner and tried to make himself as small as possible.

With his back to the street, he couldn’t see it but the growing noise of the screams were a pretty good indication of how close the car was. Maker, were there people in that thing?

The car whizzed past him, carrying the voices of two screaming men with it. The car landed initially just a few feet from them, but continued to skid down the street for several yards until it finally stopped. Alistair was sure whoever was in there wouldn’t have survived that ordeal. But miraculously two men began to slowly crawl out from the wreckage.

“Holy Maker…” Alistair stared in total disbelief for a moment before Solona pulled him back to reality.

“Alistair! Get us out of here!”

From the distance they were at they couldn’t actually see anything coming through the wall. But she was right, no way it just collapsed on its own. Had to be darkspawn…how did they throw a car?! Could they even do that? Maybe an ogre I suppose… 

“Right. Yes. Scary. Moving now…uh, this way!” He looked back at the two dazed men as they leaned against the car. “Hey, guys! This way! I know a way out!” 

Whatever the white-haired man said seemed to agitate the man with the dark hair. “Yes! What a brilliant idea! Follow the bloody templar! Why didn’t I think of that?”

“He’s not! A Templar! He’s! A! hero!” Ayden shouted at them in annoyance.

“Alistair, leave them, please!”

He could feel Solona’s shaky breaths, he saw her death grip she had on her boy. She was terrified. Alistair wouldn’t prolong it a moment further. “It’s alright, I’ll keep you two safe.”

He looked back at the two unfortunate men once more before taking off towards to safety of the Templar’s personal bunker.

Fenris and Dorian had attempted to make their way towards the opposite direction. Mostly due to the fact that Fenris didn’t care to hear Dorian complaining constantly about that particular course of action. But they stopped as an elven man leaped down ungracefully from a nearby building, landing in their path. The elf brushed himself off, muttering something to himself. He looked up at Fenris with a wide grin. “Hey! I know you!”

From the same building a human woman with long, dark hair, secured in a tight ponytail leapt down with a crushing force onto the street. Neither man could claim to be experts on chantry attire, but with how well-crafted her armor appeared, she must have been someone of a significant rank. She narrowed her eyes at the elven man. “In the name of the Maker, I demand you surrender!”

“Shit!” Myrris exclaimed as he took off running down the street. “I swear I don’t have your smut!”

Fenris and Dorian sat there for a short moment. Dazed by the scene that they had just witnessed more than everything they had been through the last few moments. Neither said a word to the other as they turned around again to follow that blonde templar.


	4. One good thing about the Blight...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Salem is forced to come to terms with her new purpose. Fenris and Dorian try to survive alongside Alistair...who also learns something...uncomfortable about Solona...

Salem tried to rest her eyes but she slept rather fitfully. She’d been walking all last night however; Duncan implored her to try to rest even for a little while. The cold temperature and make-shift bed she’d made out of what was lying around didn’t much bother her, her hold had always made due with what they had. It was the memories, she decided. It seemed every time she closed her eyes images of the fall of Red Lion Hold flashed in her mind. She raised herself up to sit against a nearby tree and sighed. Will they ever go away?

She expected to hear her spirit answer her, but he remained silent. It set her on edge immediately. “Duncan?”

Still, no response. She sat upright, her adrenaline beginning to shoot through her. “Duncan!”

One second…two…did he finally leave her? Forever? Was she truly alone now?

_“I’m here, child.”_ He said finally. But something was wrong…he seemed distant somehow. _“The darkspawn have broken through…I hadn’t expected it so quickly…”_

Salem was on her feet immediately. She doused her fire and grabbed her things quickly. She forced her tired legs to carry her as fast as she could possibly manage. 

_“Faster, child! You must hurry!”_

She wasn’t sure she had it in her. She was already so tired. Why was it her responsibility to save these pampered lowlanders anyway? They were the ones that forced her people out of the wall to begin with. Perhaps they were to blame for the destruction of her home…how long had she been running already? And for what?

It was growing more and more apparent that the darkspawn were in fact nearby. These new warden senses were hard to read. It was like trying to make out faint whispers in a crowd. It was always so quiet. Duncan told her it should be almost instinctual. He theorized that it was perhaps her connection to him that dampened her sensitivity. She worried that it would cause him to leave soon. She hadn’t truly regretted her actions before that point. But the possible threat of being left alone was more terrifying than facing a hundred darkspawn.

Salem stopped in her tracks. The dense trees obscured much of the surrounding area but in the distance, she could just barely make out the concrete wall. She had never seen it herself but now that she has, she wasn’t sure she would have been able to scale the thing if she wanted to…well, maybe, now that she looked at the trees around it but it would have been difficult. It was tall; the height of at least 5 avvar men if she were to guess. There were watchtowers periodically paced along the top. But as she looked upon them she didn’t see anyone manning them…not a good sign for the lowlanders. The break in the wall was perhaps 50 yards to her east. The wall had seemingly crumbled to pieces. A few scattered darkspawn filed through the large opening, slowly traversing the rumble. 

But as unsettling as that was, it wasn’t what truly caught her attention. She had the sudden sense of feeling completely and totally alone…where was Duncan?

He understood her unspoken question, just as he usually did. But the response was nothing she wanted to hear. _“I am leaving you now, child.”_

“What! No!” Salem spun around. The action caused the leaves to rustle loudly beneath her feet; her cloak nearly wrapped completely around her for a moment. She had to briefly struggle to get it untangled. Her eyes continued to search her surroundings. She needed to find him. She needed to make him understand. She wasn’t ready yet.

_“I’ve guided you as best as I could. But there is nothing more than I can teach you, Child. You must make your own path.”_ His voice seemed even further now.

Tears formed in Salem’s eyes. She hadn’t even cried when the darkspawn rampaged through her Hold. But this was truly terrifying. If even her spirit leaves her, who would even want her around? “I don’t…no, I can’t do this without you!”

_“You can and you will.”_

She knew that tone of voice. It was scolding, authoritative. It would be this way or no way. Salem’s sadness began to turn to anger quickly. The sinking feeling of realization set in. There was nothing to say to fix this, nothing would make it better right now. She had to say the words to herself, if only to force herself to deal with it. “You’re leaving me.”

_“This had to happen eventually, child.”_

“But why now?! This isn’t fair! I’ve done everything you’ve ever asked!”

Whatever Duncan may have said next to her was drowned out in the next moment. Suddenly the noise—the voices, they were so loud. All the whispers instantly accumulating in a cacophony of distorted screams. It felt dark, evil, wrong. Salem recalled Duncan’s previous remarks…his theory that her warden senses would elevate to normal without her being connected to him. 

The realization hit her hard, nearly paralyzed her. But without Duncan dampening the voices, they nearly overwhelmed her. It reminded her of the sounds of her home being torn apart. The paralyzing feeling quickly degraded into anger. Frost formed from her fingertips to her forearms. Her eyes set on the few darkspawn she could see. A cold rage set over her. 

If she were truly alone, then she had nothing left to lose.

**  


“We’re almost there!” Alistair shouted to the men staggering behind them. “We can make it!”

Dorian rolled his eyes. Fenris simply scowled deeper. Neither man was particularly impressed by this fool of a templar or his inane optimism. But they knew better than anyone that sticking to a group was a sound strategy. They’d seen enough during their exile to tell them that this city wouldn’t be lasting much longer.

The templar darted around a corner, leaving Fenris and Dorian to pick up the pace to follow him. Just a few steps into their jog, there was an audible snap. Fenris cried out, suddenly falling to one knee and leaning against the adjacent building.

“Fasta vass.” Dorian muttered as he stepped toward Fenris. He held out his hand, knowing that grabbing him without his permission is a very dangerous thing to attempt. “Come on, you’re not dying on me.”

“I’m fine!” Fenris staggered his weight on the wall until he stood. But the moment he put pressure on his bad leg again he nearly howled in pain.

“Don’t be a bloody fool!”

Fenris simply glared at him. He attempted to maneuver forward by himself. But he was painfully slow and soon he wouldn’t have the help of a structure to lean on. Dorian decided to test his luck. He grabbed onto Fenris’s forearm and brought it up to his face.

“Do you see this? Hmm?” He scolded, motioning to the red ribbon fastened around his wrist. Fenris’s angry expression seemed to soften a bit at the sight; Likely recalling the woman he got it from. “If you want to see her again, you have to let me help you.” Looking over Fenris’s shoulder, Dorian spotted some hurlocks shambling in the distance. They weren’t coming this way and they hadn’t seen them yet but it wouldn’t be long. 

He looked at Fenris again. He still stared at the ribbon. The poor fool was probably lost in his own thoughts, again. Dorian took a deep breath, the kind one does before attempting something dangerous. He locked onto Fenris’s arm and slung it over his shoulder. “Rip my heart out later if you’re so inclined.” Fenris was clearly uncomfortable. But he didn’t assault him so Dorian was calling that a small victory. 

Dorian helped him hobble around the corner that templar had disappeared around. For a moment he thought they’d lost him. They didn’t see him at first, but they did see a pair of genlocks creep their way down the nearby alley way. If Dorian and Fenris had been there just a second or two earlier, they’d likely be darkspawn kibble.

They sat there for a short moment, trying to figure their best course of action now. They started to turn to go the other direction but the blonde man popped his head out of another run-down building just a few yards away. He motioned to them wildly, seemingly telling them to silently hurry.

The two men shared an uncomfortably close look, and nodded to each other. With a little awkwardly coordinated teamwork, they were able to get into the doorway the templar ushered them into. Once they were inside, the templar pushed the door shut as quietly as he could. He put a finger to his lips, and pointed to a window on the other side of the large room. It appeared to be an old shop of some kind. There were racks with ruined, useless novelties collecting dust. A counter with a dusty glass display case sat at the far end in front of a doorway, which likely lead to some sort of back room.

The genlocks seemed to be circling the building now. Good thing they weren’t smart enough or tall enough to look through the windows. The templar motioned for them to follow him to the back room. It was lined with empty shelves vaulted to the walls. But one wall had a bookshelf attached to it.

The ancient shopkeeper seemed to have been a paranoid sort. They’d constructed a shelter behind the bookshelf, which served as a way to hide the metallic vault door. The vault seemed fairly small though. The woman and child the man was carrying before were already inside, resting on a dusty but otherwise well-preserved couch. The far wall seemed to serve as…some sort of tech center? There were a number of old monitors displaying what appeared to be fuzzy images of the area surrounding the building. 

“Come on,” The templar whispered. “Get inside.”

Dorian moved before Fenris did. It was more comfort than either of them had seen in far too long. While Fenris was skeptical, knowing that they didn’t know enough about this new friend of theirs, Dorian seemed far too eager to trust some stranger’s seemingly good intentions. As soon as they crossed the threshold, the templar began to pull the door shut. Despite his best efforts, the door squeaked loudly.

They all held their breath. Except for the child. He of course didn’t understand the danger. But thankfully, his mother seemed to. The moment the boy began to speak, she snatched him up and covered his mouth.

The templar froze in place. He looked back at the tech wall. Whatever he saw seemed to panic him. He pulled on the door as hard as he could, despite the noise. The door wasn’t very cooperative though. Despite his efforts, the templar couldn’t move it very quickly.

“Kaffas!” Dorian shouted. He nearly threw Fenris off of him, sending him to the unforgiving metal floor like a bag of rocks. It did nothing to help his leg or his temperament. Dorian crossed the room quickly and latched onto the circular mechanism on the vault door. He shot an annoyed look towards the templar next to him. “Put your back into it, you bloody brute!”

Fenris sat upright, glaring at Dorian for a moment before something on the monitors caught his eye. In one of the fuzzy pictures, it showed the front door of the building. It appeared as if it was bowing under some tremendous amount of force. From the angle it was impossible to tell what was on the other side. But the other monitors showed the exterior of the building…no more genlocks were in the alleyway…the fifth and final monitor confirmed the chilling reality they face. They’d been spotted. 

“Get that thing shut, now!” Fenris yelled at them.

Dorian didn’t seem to have the spare energy to quip back at him. The damned stubborn door was still closing so slowly. Dorian and the templar were nearly shaking from the effort. Fenris tried futility to get to his feet but his busted leg prevented him from it. “Fenhedis!”

The front door suddenly shattered open. The triumphant grunts of the genlocks filled the building. The woman tossed her son down on the couch and sprinted towards the door. Fenris thought she meant to help them with the door, but instead she began to run her fingers in odd patterns over it. 

“Solona?” The templar through strained grunts. “What are you doing?”

“Buying us time.” She said simply. She tapped the door a final time and a magic rune glowed brightly for a fleeting moment before disappearing. The templar looked shocked. But the woman ignored him. She grabbed the final prong on the circular mechanism and started using her weight to help them pull. 

The genlocks scurried around the main room for a moment, but they quickly pinpointed the noise and bolted for it. They barreled into the back room, bumbling into each other in the process. The door was nearly closed now. Just a little further and they could latch it.

The three of them pulled with all of their might but they still couldn’t make it in time. The genlocks got to the door. One reached its fat, gray fingers around the edge but the moment it touched the metal, it was shocked in place. Unable to move, the paralyzed genlock effectively blocked the other from getting to the door as well. It gave the three of them just enough time to pull the door closed and latch it. 

Once the spinning mechanism was locked in place, they all breathed a heavy sigh of relief. Dorian slumped against the nearest wall, his chest heaving with each heavy breath. “I must say, that was rather clever, miss.”

The woman smiled politely as she gathered her frighten boy into her arms again. “Desperate times call for quick thinking.”

The templar crossed the room silently, his eyes were fixed on the monitors. Whatever he was looking at did nothing for the shock he seemed to be experiencing. The woman seemed to notice and become very anxious suddenly. 

Dorian looked at the situation and decided to ignore whatever drama was threatening to unfold. “Templar, I don’t suppose you have any lyrium on you?”

The question seemed to snap the man out of whatever line of thought he was burying himself under. “What? Oh, um, no. I, um, I’d just gotten promoted actually. If today went well I would have gotten my first dose…”

Dorian chuckled darkly. “Well it’s that just poetic?”

“What could you possibly need lyrium for?” Fenris asked wearily.

“Well, now that you mention it, I was going to attempt to heal your leg, you ungrateful ass.”

Fenris chuckled a little, only to start coughing horribly. The templar pulled a plastic bottle of water from his backpack and offered it to him. “How did you get hurt?” He asked carefully.

“Did you somehow miss the flying sports car?” Fenris made sure only to take a small sip to calm the cough. No telling how long they’d have to bunker in here. He motioned weakly to his leg. “I felt something crack when we landed. I must have pushed too far. I’m certain its broken now.”

“So…it wasn’t—”

“The darkspawn? No. We’ve been fortunate.”

Dorian cleared his throat. “Ah, yes, about that. We should thank you. We’re in bad shape as it is, I doubt we would have made it out of the city on our own.”

“Oh, you’re welcome. You know, it’s important to stick together and all that…oh, um, I’m Alistair, by the way. As of this morning a Knight-Lieutenant of the order, but somehow I don’t think that’s gonna stick.” Alistair said with a nervous laugh.

The woman rose from the couch again and crossed the room to shake each of their hands. “My name is Solona Amell, this is my son, Ayden. We’re glad to make your acquaintance.”

Fenris reluctantly shook her hand, after a stern look from Dorian but seemingly refused to be any friendlier than that. Dorian rolled his eyes at him. “You’ll have to forgive Fenris. We’ve been through quite an ordeal and his…social skills have suffered from it. I am Magister Dorian Pavus of Kirkwall, pleased to make your acquaintance.”

“A magister?” Solona asked incredulously.

Alistair ran his hands over his face. “Oh, maker save me, they’re gonna have my head.”

“Don’t soil your britches,” Fenris griped. “The darkspawn can’t get us in here.”

“Maybe…but eventually we’re gonna have to get out of here and I’m gonna have a very angry Knight-Captain looking for me…Maker, I hate that woman…Oh! And to top it off,” He began laughed a little despite his anxious state. “I’m harboring an apostate and a magister!”

Solona flinched as if the words had physically hurt her. “Alistair, I’m sorry, I never meant for you to find out—”

Alistair’s eyes narrowed at her. “You never what?! We were together for 3 years, Solona! How could you—?”

“Alistair, please!” She looked toward Ayden for a moment, who seemed to be more interested in the monitors than anything the grown ups were talking about. “I know you deserve an explanation…for a lot of things…but not in front of him, please?”

One look at Ayden and Alistair seemed to soften right up again. “You’re right…I’m sorry.”

“I promise you, we can talk about it later.”

Alistair sighed defeatedly. He flopped himself down on the couch, sending the residual dust flying everywhere.

“Well,” Fenris muttered. “That was awkward.”

Solona raised an eyebrow at him. “You know what will be even more awkward? Having to carry a fully-grown man with a broken leg.”

Dorian laughed heartily. “Oh, I like her.”

Alistair shot a disapproving glare in Dorian’s direction but quickly thought better of it and decided to try and guess how many threads made up the cushions on the couch. Maybe he should just scream again…

Solona knelt down beside Fenris but kept a respectful distance. “Can I take a look? Healing happens to be my specialty.”

“No.” He glared at her, as if she were just as likely to kill him as the darkspawn were.

Dorian scoffed. “Vishante kaffas. The woman is trying to help you.”

“I don’t need it.”

“Yes, as a matter of fact, you do.” She pointed to his leg, while still remaining about two feet away. “The bone is definitely broken. If you leave it untreated, it will likely heal, eventually. But it will take months. And there’s a high probability that it will still remain next to useless to you. You won’t be running any marathons. I could treat it without magic, if that’s your concern. But I can’t recommend that either. Given our current situation, we will likely need you on your feet as quickly as possible.”

Fenris scowled at her now. It was clear he understood her reasoning, but equally clear he didn’t much like it. He looked down at the ribbon on his wrist again. With a heavy sigh he spoke to her. “Will I be fit enough to fight?”

“That depends on how much you’re willing to let me do. I’ll need to rest of course. But I’m fairly skilled with healing magic if I do say so myself. Ideally, I’ll have you fully repaired in a day or two.”

Fenris seemed to consider it for a moment. He looked to Dorian, silently asking for his input. He shrugged. “Well, she has to do a better job then me. I couldn’t heal a papercut if I tried.” But still his friend seemed unsure. “If she were here, she’d want you to get better. No matter what that required.”

“I know.” He said simply. Whatever his true emotions were at the time, he seemed to be hiding them well enough. “Alright,” He said as he looked up at Solona. “Do what you must.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I know I didn't go into too much detail about it, but Fenris and Dorian are pretty banged up. They did get tossed through a wall in a car without seat belts--so yeah, needless to say they didn't walk away from that unscathed. Fenris did end up getting a more problematic injury, but Dorian is very likely walking around with nasty cuts and bruises as well.


	5. New Ice and Old Flames

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Myrris makes a grave error while evading capture...While Solona deals with an unruly patient inside the panic room.

Despite the obvious weight of her armor and the engraved greatsword she wielded, Cassandra still managed to pursue this mad elf closely. “In the Maker’s name, I demand that you surrender!”

“The Maker was a mage!” Myrris shouted to her as he continued to deftly dodge the flaming metal. “And so was Andraste!”

“Blasphemer!” Cassandra brought her sword down with all her might. But still all she managed to do was imbed the weapon in the pavement. “Flames!”

Myrris cackled maniacally as he continued his escape. “Ha! I’m free!”

In an attempt to lose the totally not-his-thedas’s-seeker, he began making erratic twists and turns on every and any street he could. After a minute or two he thought he may have actually lost her. He slowed to a casual walk. “Man,” He muttered aloud between panted breaths. “This body is totally out of shape. Thanks, Falon’Dick.”

He began to take a good look at his surroundings. He gathered that this was supposedly Lothering. Which was weird, given all of the modern-like buildings. “Did that mirror take me through time or some shit? Nah. Has to be a separate reality...okay, okay, okay…so Curly is mean, Seeker is…like she’s p-m-s-ing more than usual…Meridia—wait, no—Meredith is still alive…who else…ooh, ooh, ooh! I saw Fenris with some…hobo? Gonna have to figure that one out—and…oh…shit…”

As he rounded the corner of a dingy, brick building, he came nearly face-to-face with a small group of roaming hurlocks. They turned to seek out the noise he had made instantaneously, but instead of charging at him they seemed almost confused by him. “Oh…right…the alarms…the alarms that came from the wall…the alarms that were probably for the darkspawn…right…”

They slowly neared toward him as he spoke. It was as if looking at moths drawn to a flame. You know, large, humanoid, fucked up monster moths…to an elven idiot.

Myrris let out a small, nervous laugh and began backing up. “Hey, guys, about that. So, I just remembered I had a strict resolution not to kill off this body yet today.” He backed into the larger street that he had just come from. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw large flashes of blue and orange. “So, yeah, I’m gonna have to…” Having successfully led the hurlocks so far, he decided to chance a look at the cause of all that chaos over there. 

He recognized the totally-not-Cassandra, but the other…woman? Is that a fucking avvar? 

**

Cassandra cursed herself silently every time her sword missed the apostate. She shouldn’t have expended so much energy trying to capture that damnable elf. She was already in need of a real rest when she spotted this woman—a blatant criminal wielding magic out in the open. It didn’t matter if she intended to fight the darkspawn or not, magic could not be tolerated. It was Chantry law after all. With heaving breaths, she managed to make one final demand. “Surrender…or die!”

Salem sneered, as she conjured another icy spell in her hand. They had yet to pierce through the seeker’s armor, but it was managing to slow her down. “Manaveris Hakkon!”

The small spell in her hand suddenly burst outwards from her in all directions. It forced Cassandra to stagger back a step or two. Their surrounding area was coated with snow and ice, a freezing wind now encircled Salem as she slowly stepped towards the disoriented seeker again.

Cassandra regained herself just in time to send a smite to her opponent. Salem stopped in her tracks, gasping for a short moment. The ice and snow vanished instantly. Cassandra smirked as she planted her feet down on the dry ground once again. But just when she thought she had finally gained the upper hand, Salem began laughing darkly.

The avvar woman unclasped her cloak, letting it fall to the pavement unceremoniously. “You lowlanders never learn.” She slowly forced Cassandra to mirror her movements as she attempted to encircle her. The way this apostate looked at her was completely unnerving. At that moment she wasn’t sure that the darkspawn were any worse than these avvars. When this woman looked at her, all Cassandra saw was evil in her glowing blue eyes— _Maker, I hope she’s not a Warden._

“I am an auger of Red-Lion, not a mage trapped in your prisons. My magic is a gift…” Salem said rather calmly as she cracked her knuckles through her fingerless leather gloves and brought her fists up to eye level. “Not a crutch.”

Cassandra made a disgusted noise at her. _What could she possibly hope to do with her bare hands?_ The seeker gripped her greatsword and charged at her. Salem lowered herself as Cassandra neared her again. Waiting for the perfect moment, she dodged to the side just enough to give her the access she needed to plant a precise kick to the back of Cassandra’s knee.

The move shocked the seeker. It made her hesitate for just a second. But a second was all Salem needed to rip Cassandra’s knife from her belt and dig it into her skin. Salem gripped the seeker’s throat in her hand for added emphasis. “What was that about surrender, lowlander?”

Cassandra grunted in disgust again. But before she could open her mouth to say anything, both women were drawn to the shrill screaming coming from further down the street. Cassandra recognized that damned elf immediately, but at the moment it appeared they both had bigger problems. He was currently being chased by perhaps half a dozen hurlocks…and sprinting right for them.

This all seemed to be a part of the mad elf’s plan, if there even was one. He screamed at them as he approached. “Save me warrior goddess!” 

“Keep your mouth covered, Lowlander.” Salem warned as she shoved Cassandra away. “I suggest you defend yourself.”

Cassandra scrambled back to her feet as quickly as the plate armor would allow. The elf and his hurlock attackers were closing in fast. She looked to Salem. The avvar held her own knife like she was trained to. The engraved silver metal looked awkward on such a barbarian. A fleeting thought crossed Cassandra’s mind that she’d likely tainted it already. Salem’s eyes were fixed upon the incoming threat. It would have been so easy to strike at the avvar now…and for a moment she nearly did. But no, that was not her way. She turned her own gaze to the advancing darkspawn and readied her greatsword. _I might die today, but I’ll die content with the knowledge that I’ve lived as a better person than those that came before me._

“May the Maker guide us both, apostate.” Cassandra offered in the most cordial tone she could manage.

Salem scoffed. “Hakkon guides me today, Lowlander.” 

The two women shared an understanding look before they leapt into battle once again.

**

“Ah! Fenhedis!” Fenris howled as the bone finally snapped back into place. His voice echoed hollowly through their metallic safe haven. He clenched his fists so tightly he thought he might break his own hands. 

Solona winced, despite not actually feeling the pain herself. “Would it help you to know that was the worst part?”

Fenris opened his eyes again only to glare at her. “What do you think, mage?”

From the couch, Alistair shot him a glare of his own. Dorian likely would have too, if he hadn’t have passed out momentarily in the armchair on the opposite side of the room. Ayden didn’t seem to be paying too much attention to anything the boring adults were doing. Instead, he seemed content to fiddle with the dusty old buttons on the ancient keyboard. Every once in a while, he would find some command that adjusted the cameras in some way, which continued to peak his interest.

Solona rolled her eyes. “You know, I’m really starting to regret helping you.” 

The pain had dulled a bit in the last couple of moments, making his temperament just a little friendlier. He sighed heavily as he ran his hands over his face. “I apologize, that was…undeserving. Your assistance is appreciated.”

She scoffed. “Well, I should certainly hope so. I don’t see you healing any better without it.”

“She’s right on that one.” Dorian muttered in his half-asleep state. “Left in my care, you’d have likely grown an unwanted appendage by now.”

“Point being,” Solona said with a small smirk. “I understand there isn't much I can do for the pain and I’m sorry about that. But I am trying to use my magic to help you.”

Fenris looked down at the red ribbon again before he responded. “Forgive me, I am…I’ve had…troubles with mages before. I should have learned by now that your magic doesn’t make you evil.”

Dorian scoffed. “Well, I should certainly hope so. Seeing as how you feel in love with a mage, after all.”

Solona’s eyebrows raised in surprise. “You…? Really? How? You flinch even at a simple healing spell.”

A smile cracked across Fenris’s face involuntarily. “She is…indescribable. Nothing I could say would do her justice…her magic feels…safe.”

Solona smiled warmly as she slowly began mending the cuts on his skin; Couldn’t risk an infection in this place. “And how does mine feel?”

“In a word?” Fenris chuckled. “Itchy.”

Alistair scoffed softly. Under his breath, he mutters just loud enough for Solona to catch wind of it. “Funny word for a liar.”

She clearly notices it, but she doesn’t acknowledge it. Instead, she focuses on mending the remaining fracture in Fenris’s leg. “So, what’s her name?”

“Depends on who you ask.” Fenris said with a smirk. “Everyone seems to call her something different.”

“What do you call her?” 

“Amatus.” He ran his fingers over the ribbon again. For a moment he nearly lost himself to another fond memory.

Solona gave him a quick, questioning look before returning her attention to his leg once again. I’ll have to stop soon, she thought. After mending Fenris’s leg and healing herself from earlier, she was definitely starting to feel that familiar fatigue. “Tevene, isn’t it? You’re from the Imperial Marches, I take it?”

The anger seemed to slowly slip back into his voice once again. “No…not anymore…We’ve been exiled.”

“Is your wife there?” Solona asked, picking up quickly that his demeanor brightened when he spoke of this indescribable woman.

Fenris nervously laughed. His cheeks even flushed a bit more. Not that anyone was going to mention that. “She’s not my wife. I, um, we couldn’t…Ashley is an Altus, and well, I’m…”

“Does she love you?”

“She…” Fenris’s mind flooded with all the things she’d done for him, both major and minor. There was so much. Far too many to count. It wasn’t just the words. There was no denying it, ever. “Forever and Always.”

Solona’s smile was different now, almost a little distant. There seemed to be a sense of longing to it. “Then I’m sure she doesn’t care about the differences in your status.”

Alistair shot a look at her. He hated it, but there was that voice screaming at him in his head that was hoping she was speaking from personal experience. She’d said that same thing to him once, years ago. _Get it out of your head, Alistair, she had a kid. She clearly moved on._

“So,” Solona continued. “Which city were you from?”

“Kirkwall.” Fenris replied with a sneer.

Solona cocked her head to the side. “What’s Ashley’s surname?”

Despite his position, Fenris still somehow managed to instantly look imposing. He seemed to take the question as some kind of threat. And now that the bone was back in place, he could likely attack her if he was truly inclined. Not that he’d get very far without it being properly healed though.

“I have family in Kirkwall.” Solona explained calmly, as she slowly inched away from him. “I have a cousin named Ashley that lives there. She’s from the Amell family, but I believe they go by their father’s name. Do you know the Hawkes?”

Fenris eyed her suspiciously but didn’t speak. Dorian rose from his nap to sleepily question her with a chuckle in his raspy voice. “You’re telling us…that Ashley Hawke is your cousin?”

Alistair couldn’t have hidden his reaction if he tried. “Oh, Maker. What are the odds? The Knight-Commander is definitely gonna have my head now.”

“Well, given your shock,” Solona continued, trying to maintain a modicum of cordiality. “I hope you’re friends of hers.”

“Friends.” Dorian snickered. “Who do you think gave him the ribbon?”

Solona raised an eyebrow at her reluctant patient. “Well, that’s…certainly…unexpected.”

The anger returned to Fenris quickly. “Wouldn’t have expected her with a slave, would you? Or is it the ears that strike your prejudice?”

Alistair got defensive instantly. “Hey!” He sat up and pointed towards Fenris, much like how a parent would do to a misbehaving child. “Don’t you speak to her that way!”

“It’s alright, Alistair.” She gave him a thankful smile. He returned it for a moment, but his gaze shot down to the magic in her hands and his smile faded considerably. Solona turned back to Fenris with a sigh. “I only meant that...Well, last we spoke, she seemed to have a different, um, type. Not that it seemed to be working for her.”

Fenris seemed confused, but Dorian definitely wasn’t. “Ooh, by all means, tell us about the evil ex-flame. I have been dreadfully deprived of gossip lately.”

Solona shared a worried look with Alistair. Neither said anything for a moment. When Solona looked back to Fenris he was staring intently at her. There was a sort of anger in his expression but it didn’t seem to be directed at her this time. She sighed heavily. “If she didn’t say anything, I’m not sure it’s my place to tell.”

The humor dropped right out of Dorian’s voice. He leaned forward in his seat. “Was it that bad?”

Solona shrugged. “Well, she certainly left him for a reason…”

“Tell us.” Fenris said simply.

Alistair cleared his throat. “Not to play Templar’s advocate here, but I might point out that perhaps there’s a bigger problem to deal with first. Like, oh, I don’t know, the darkspawn?”

“Bite your tongue, mage killer.” Fenris eyed him as he pulled his tattered pantleg to cover his injured leg now that Solona seemed to be done healing him for the moment. 

Alistair rolled his eyes and sank back down on the couch, muttering under his breath once again. “Sure, sure, I’m the bad guy. Take it out on me. Not like I was the one trying to save us all but that’s fine…”

“I’ll make you a deal, Fenris.” Solona spoke up with a sudden snappiness to her voice. “I’ll tell you what happened to Ashley. And in return, you help Alistair and I fight our way out of the city.”

Dorian scoffed indignantly. “And where do I fit in this arrangement? Pretty little mage-flower?”

“You? No, you’re far too filthy at present to be the pretty one.” Solona smirked. “But I’m willing to bet you’re a clever man. You know it will take more than your spells alone to get passed this horde.”

“Hmm, fair enough, I suppose. Brutal. But fair.” Dorian nudged Fenris’s shoulder with his foot. “She reminds me of Hawke.”

Solona extended her hand to Fenris, who shook it firmly without hesitation this time. “We’ve a deal, then.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again for reading! I'd love to hear your thoughts, so feel free to comment!


	6. Seekers, Avvars, and Damnable Elfs, oh my!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The unlikely trio battles the darkspawn, Myrris continues to make blunders...did I mention darkspawn?

Sweat dripped from Cassandra's brow as she swung her greatsword blindly once again. Fatigue was threatening to consume her now. Damn that Maker forsaken Divine, making me sit for hours as his 'ambassador' is making me weak.

She looked to the avvar and scoffed. The woman didn't seem to be slowed at the least bit, despite Cassandra having cut her off from her magic just moments ago. She ducked and dived through the hurlocks like it was a normal Tuesday for her. And that elf… (well if you could call that flailing aimlessly that he was doing fighting) was seemingly more effective than even she was at the moment.

It enraged her. The knowledge that this barbarian and this mad elf were more efficient than a hardened and trained Seeker nearly boiled her blood. Despite her fatigue, she suddenly felt a swell of energy. Fueled by an envious rage, she lifted her weapon just in time to cleave a charging hurlock in half.

The beast fell silent instantly. Its separate halves flopped to the ground with a sickeningly wet sound. Something within the combination of the sound and the sudden waft of the rotten flesh smell sent the Seeker's stomach churning. It was an immediate, violent reaction as she suddenly heaved the contents of her breakfast onto the already filthy street. Faintly, she heard the avvar woman yelling maker-knows-what in her direction.

Wearily, she looked in the direction of her voice…only to see another hurlock charging at her. Panic set her nerves on fire again. She tried to scramble to her feet, but her heavy armor wore her down too much to make anything about her movements quick.

The hurlock reached her before she could properly react. It wrapped It's claws in Cassandra's long hair and yanked her upright. It brought her face-to-face and roared triumphantly. She tried to punch the thing but it simply chuckled darkly at her.

"For the Warrior Goddess!"

Both Cassandra and the Hurlock turned to see that mad elf…was he…falling from the sky? Maker, how?

Myrris let out a shrill scream as he fell ungracefully towards his intended target. He somehow forgot to consider how much gravity would be playing a factor in this spontaneous plan. He was falling—with style he might add—much faster than he had originally intended.

"Mistakes were made!"

Instead of falling directly on the hurlock like he had intended, the unfortunate seeker broke Myrris's fall. As her head collided with the pavement, he worried he actually killed her for a moment. "Ah, shit." He muttered aloud. "I really hope you don't have a Cadash waiting for you somewhere…"

There likely was another quip or two still left to rattle around in his mind when his attention was suddenly returned to the hurlock next to him. It seemed to have recovered from Myrris's failed attack and lunged for him.

Before he had the proper time to try and dodge the attack, the hurlock grabbed him by the throat and lifted him until his feet dangled off the ground. Through choked gasps, Myrris still managed to make sarcastic comments. "What the fuck were you?"

It was then that he had finally managed to notice that this particular hurlock still wore remnants of armor. Blue and gold armor to be exact, with a lion on it. "A fucking chevalier? Oh, fuck me."

The hurlock roared again, but thankfully it didn't last long. Myrris watched as a slender hand gripped the hurlock's face suddenly. In the next moment, another hand shoved a dagger through the top of it's skull. The monster's grip faded instantly. Myrris tumbled back down to the ground, narrowly missing being crushed under the fallen hurlock. He rolled to the side with a girlish yelp. "But I was about to give him a tic-tac!"

Salem did her best not to react to the insane lowlander. She wasn't intent on making any friends and certainly not with him. He hadn't actually said a word to her directly yet but she already was convinced he'd drive her to murder. She instead focused her attention on the female lowlander.

"She's, uh, not dead right? I really, really don't want that on my conscience." The elf asked, actually sounding a little nervous.

"I'd forget your conscience if you wish to survive this. I suggest you run, fast as you can, and never return." Salem replied without looking back to him. She carefully lifted the woman and hefted her over her shoulder. The weight of the woman and the armor was nearly too much for her. But Salem remembered Red Lion still so clearly. She witnessed first hand the dark reality of the darkspawn's machinations. This woman may be an enemy, but she wouldn't wish such a fate even on her.

She trudged slowly to the nearest building. Summoning all of the strength she could at the moment, she threw her shoulder into the door, sending it open so quickly it banged onto the wall it was attached to. The building appeared to be long abandoned. It was nothing more than a dusty, dingy ruin of…a schoolhouse maybe? The old blackboard and the somewhat intact desks were the only real clues. Everything else seemed to have been crumbled over time.

Salem lugged the unconscious woman to the largest desk in the far corner. She set the woman down to the floor as gently as possible. For a moment, the woman stirred but quickly stilled again. Behind her, a pair of footsteps caught her attention. Salem's head whipped around, frost coated her hand once more. But upon recognizing the insane elf she relaxed again. She noticed immediately that he carried her own cloak and the woman's greatsword.

"Hey, hey, hey, now! I'm not ready to die yet!"

Salem rolled her eyes at him. "I told you to run."

The elf scoffed, motioning to the items in his hands. "Uh, I believe the words you're looking for are: Thanks, Myrris! I'm oh so grateful for your oh so gracious help!"

She turned her back to him and began flipping the desks on their sides. "Help? Do you lowlanders often help one another by running like a bitch?"

"I say, my good madam! I merely advanced in the opposite direction in order to enact an intelligent stratagem the would result in my immediate survival."

Salem grunted as she slid the desks together, forming a make shift wall around the unconscious woman. "Your fancy talk doesn't change that you ran. Like a bitch." She barely glanced in his direction as she snatched the sword and the cloak from his hands.

"But did we die? Or get blighted?"

Salem simply shot him an icy glare.

Myrris seemed to realize the error of his statement quickly; those were definitely warden eyes. He squinted as he leaned a little closer, making bizarre gestures with his hands. "Except in your case…"

_I may have to kill this one._ She decided to ignore him and whatever ramblings he continued to mutter to himself. The madman was clearly seeking attention or approval or some other nonsense she would not deign to give him for even a second. She took her cloak and folded it under the woman's head and placed the greatsword in the woman's hand.

"Lady watch over you, Lowlander."

Salem lumbered back over the makeshift wall and walked calmly out the door again.

"Time out!"

She registered the elf's odd protest, but absently hoped that he'd find something else that strikes his fancy and run off. She had no such luck. She unfortunately was unfamiliar with this lowlander city, making her have to stop and examine her surroundings. Which gave the elf more than enough time to catch up to her.

The elf popped up from behind her, quickly jumping into her view. "I don't know you."

"You're not wrong."

"That means you're the perfect one to answer my questions!"

"You are wrong."

She resigned herself to following this odd, paved path until she found more darkspawn to kill. This madman was making it nearly impossible for her to think clearly. Especially considering that he kept throwing bizarre questions at her.

"Where are we?"

"Some lowlander village? The name escapes me—it doesn't matter."

"Lowlander…lowlander…" He pressed his fingers dramatically to his temples. "Processing…oh! That means you're an avvar!"

Salem scoffed. "Would that get you to shut up?"

Myrris smirked. "No, not really. I only have one off switch in my prostate. And nobody touches my bum-bum."

She stopped in her tracks, slowly turning to him. "I'm going to give you until the count of three to get away from me or Korth help me, I will send you to the Lady."

"But I don't wanna die yet…"

"One."

"Fine, be that way!"

Somehow mercifully, the elf began walking away from her. Salem breathed a sigh of relief. She was finally free to set her focus to the task at hand…something seemed to be whispering darkly in the back of her mind…some kind of looming threat…a darkspawn, surely, but—

"So, what hold are you from?!" The elf yelled to her from about 10 yards behind her.

Whatever the threat was would have to wait for a moment. The elf had finally hit the nerve. She whipped around on her heel, already conjuring an icy lance to shoot directly into his heart. But before the spell was ready a realization dawned over her. Suddenly the looming threat became clear in her mind. She knew exactly what it was and more than that, she knew where it was.

Myrris groaned as he watched her sprint down the street away from him. "Aw, come on—wait, why are you running!" She ran for maybe a block or two at a pace that was easily too fast for him, before darting down an alleyway. "Hey! Wardens aren't supposed to run from their problems!"

Several moments passed before he was finally able to catch up to where he had last seen her. By now his lungs were nearly burning, he leaned on his knees has he heaved for breath. Suddenly he felt the ground being to rumble. "Ah shit."

He stayed completely still as he tried to figure out what the actual fuck that was and where it was coming from. He soon got his answer. Salem was thrown violently in front of him. She rolled several times as she skidded across the pavement. She got back up quickly though, much to his surprise. A frosty wind formed around her as she let out a battle cry. "Manavaeris Haakon!"

Her cry was met with a deafening roar that could only have come from an ogre. Chancing a glance around the corner, he confirmed his suspicions. "Hey!" He screamed after the avvar as she charged at the ogre once more, "Wardens aren't supposed to be suicidal!"


	7. Help Is On The Way...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lothering finally gets the help it so desperately needs, while Ayden puts a plethora of questions in Alistair's mind...

Lothering had fallen. No getting around that now. Darkspawn still continued to trickle in through the massive breech in the wall. No civilians in sight, but that may not be such a good thing if experience had taught him anything. When he had sensed this incursion, he never expected to find something like this. Not on this side of the wall, anyway. He'd witnessed the unfortunate destruction of a number of clans and holds out in the southern wilds. But this was a different story entirely. This was a city—a 'recently reclaimed' city, but still just as significant. The citizens were lulled into complacent safety from the promised protection of that great wall. They wouldn't have been prepared for this, not by a long shot.

To the west, the fires still burned brightly in the chantry. _Figures,_ he muttered to himself, _bet their Maker told them to save the faithful first. Bloody Bastards. If they would have just worked with us in the beginning, none of this would have happened._

As the moments passed on, he grew more and more aware of the pair of eyes watching him. His last remaining subordinates waited impatiently for his order. Both were flawed in their own way, but damn good wardens. No denying that. Oghren would likely belch at the sentiment, but even he would lay his life down for the cause should the situation call for it. Nathaniel…well, the man was stubborn but honorable nonetheless, he'd proven that much. Had events unfolded differently, he might have been able to call him a friend. But there was no room for that now. He could only hope the man had a pragmatic head on his shoulders at the moment.

Oghren's raspy voice brought him out of his thoughts quickly. "So, what's it gonna be, Commander?"

He looked down again at the fallen city. With the keen eyes of a seasoned soldier, he picked out the areas that the templars had neglected. "There and there." He ordered, pointing to separate ends of the city. "Fill in the gaps in the defenses. Do whatever you can, however you can. We meet at the Suite by sunrise tomorrow." He steeled himself as he looked at them again. He tried hard to push back the thought that he was likely sending them to their deaths. The death of the last true Wardens. "In death, Sacrifice."

Neither Oghren or Nathaniel looked particularly surprised by the sentiment. Nothing about the situation gave hope for a victorious outcome. Should they survive…it wouldn't be without a cost.

"Aye." Oghren nodded, an oddly somber look in his eye now. For a moment he paused as if to say something more but quickly thought better of it. He stood abruptly, drawing his greataxe from its holster. He let out a battle cry as he charged in his designated direction. "Come on, blighties! Oghren's got a treat for ya!"

Nathaniel scoffed at his companion. "That's how I'll want to remember him, surely." He let out a sigh as he turned to face his commander. "There's a vault beneath the throne in the great hall. My nephew's birthday will unlock it. See that my sister gets the contents."

Several dozen thoughts swirled around the commander's head in that moment. He wanted scream at the man for keeping such precious secrets about the Warden's rightful keep. But no, given the present circumstance…it wasn't the time. He nodded curtly to him. "You have my word."

Nathaniel set his eyes on his destination. He scanned the area for his targets, already drawing his arrows. "Whatever you think…it's been an honor, Rainier." He deftly leapt from the safety of their perch and right into action with the grace of an expertly trained marksman, leaving Rainer alone once again.

Rainer replaced his helmet and stood slowly. It was an odd thing facing certain death. He wasn't sure he had before, not like this. If they failed here, it would be the doom of all Thedas—what was left of it. There was an odd sense of peace that filled him as he jumped to the street below, readying his weapons and preparing to meet his end.

The weight of Hawke's story still felt heavy in the small room. Fenris was propped against the far corner. Solona had asked him to get some rest, but it seemed his mind only wanted to wander now. Alistair recognized the look on his face. He was angry, maybe even a little hurt. He may not have had much reason to like the man; he had been rather rude to Solona after all, but he couldn't help but feel sorry for him. If he'd been in his shoes, he'd be ready to tear the world down. Can't really blame him after what he had just learned.

_"There's nothing more anyone could have done…" Solona had said to him, "I'm glad to know she's building a life with someone better, now."_

Recalling her voice made him look to her now. Solona shifted uncomfortably next to him. The couch wasn't very large to begin with. She was trying to give him space, he could tell. But she was exhausted…magic apparently is just as hard as a vigorous workout it seemed… _so hard to think of her with magic_ …

She blinked her heavy eyes open again slowly. He was afraid he might have actually said that bit aloud for a moment. But the panic faded just as quickly as it rose, she seemed to be only checking on Ayden. The kid was a marvel. They hadn't been in this place for maybe more than a couple of hours and already he seemed to have mastered that old surveillance machine. He also appeared to have the instinctive ability to tune everything else around him out, focusing on his own little world. Alistair could understand that, he still did it himself on occasion. His mind traitorously wandered to the what ifs. What if Solona hadn't left? Would they have had a child like him? Gotten married? Intact house, tiny little yard for the boy, maybe a Mabari? She still could have been a doctor; doctors are needed everywhere right? Would it really have been so bad? He never thought about having a family, or being a father. But Ayden changed that the moment he met him. Such a stupid thing really, he barely even knew the kid. _Don't get attached,_ he reminded himself, _she left. She clearly moved on._

He looked down at Solona again. She was now attempting to curl herself into a ball to get more comfortable. She was taking care to keep as much distance between them as possible. Watching that brought a whole new wave of bad feelings over him. Hurt. Regret. Jealousy, even. She won't go near him now that he reacted so badly to the magic thing. But there's probably someone else back in Denerim waiting for her…maybe that someone didn't care…maybe that someone was better than him…

He rose from the couch suddenly, too quickly for it just to be normal. Her gaze shot up to him, her eyes grew alert again. She couldn't relax around him, another little pang of hurt. "I'm sorry, Alistair, I didn't mean to—"

"No, no, no, no, it's fine. Really, you need the rest." He hesitated a moment, his voice dropped a little as he added. "I've, um, heard healing magic isn't easy…"

She offered a small, forced smile. She was trying to be nice to him. Another ow, a bigger ow. "It is a more advanced skill, yes."

Before he could manage to bumble out something else, Ayden interrupted him. Thank the Maker. "Hey, mom, can I play a game?"

Solona sighed heavily. "Baby, we don't have any games with us."

He pointed his small fingers to the monitor in front of him. "The computer does."

She closed her eyes, the tone of her voice made it sound as if she'd had this conversation hundreds of times before. "What game is it?"

"Uh, it's called…Sool…Solli…I don't know the word."

"Oh," Alistair chuckled as he looked over the boy's shoulder. "That's Solitaire."

Ayden's eyes lit up as he looked up at him. "Ooh! Will you play with me?"

He didn't look over to her but he could tell Solona was staring at him. Don't screw this up, you blighted idiot. Alistair kneeled down to his level and looked at the screen in contemplation. "Hmm, well, the thing about solitaire is you can only play by yourself."

Ayden's shoulders drooped. "Oh, okay."

"But," Alistair continued, "I could show you how to play?"

Ayden's eyes lit up again. He looked over to Solona with a pouty face. "Please, mom? Pleeeaassseee?"

Alistair slowly turned to her as well. It was then that he noticed something in her expression changed. In all their time together, he'd never seen her like this. It was almost as if she were ready to cry. She still managed to smile for Ayden though. "Of course."

"Yes!" Ayden whispered very loudly to Alistair once he thought his mom wasn't paying attention anymore. "The puppy face always gets her."

Alistair tried hard not to laugh but it didn't pan out well. He snickered as he looked at him. Surely Solona was rolling her eyes at him. "You don't say?"

"Every. Time. Except for cookies. If you want cookies, you gotta clean your room and then you gotta do the puppy face. Then it works." As the screen loaded the card game, Ayden grew a scowl on his face. "What's this?"

Alistair couldn't help but laugh. "This is Solitaire."

"Um, where's the spider thing?"

"That's just the icon, the only spiders here are on the back of the cards." Alistair clicked the button to move the nearest card to show him. "See?"

"Well, that's just stupid."

Dorian huffed a laugh in his half-awake state. "Oh, don't get bored of it yet, little one. You haven't even heard the rules!"

"Well, rules are stupid too."

Alistair nudged him playfully. "No, no, no, no. You gotta have some rules to play a game. Like this: see you got your numbers 1-10, then you got the jack and the queen, and then the king—"

"Eww, no! King's are stupid, I don't wanna play!" Ayden angrily hit the X button to close the screen.

"Whoa, now, what did the kings ever do to you?" He asked, trying to keep a joking tone. Last thing he needed was Solona to see that he somehow managed to piss off her son. He chanced a look back at her, only to find her sleeping peacefully already. Small miracles.

"They're just stupid. And mean."

"Well, have you ever met a king?"

"Yeah," He said in a tone that might as well have said 'well, duh', "We have to see King Cailan like all the time."

"Oh, I see. So, is he stupid and mean?"

"Yeah! I don't like him. Grandpa wants him to be my dad but that's stupid too."

Dorian sat more upright in his chair, "Now that's a juicy bit of gossip."

All those bad feelings he'd been trying to bury seemed to threaten to surface now. Alistair felt like he was barely holding together, but falling apart in front of this little kid was just not an option. His little voice rang in his head; he called him a hero earlier. Heroes don't fall apart. He kept himself as calm as possible as he spoke. "So, your grandpa wants your mom to marry the king?"

"Yeah. But that's stupid. He's not my dad and I don't like him."

"Right, of course…"

"So," Dorian asked, as if he somehow knew to take Ayden's attention off of Alistair for a moment. "Who is your dad, then?"

"Well, I don't know."

"You don't know?"

"I haven't met him yet." Ayden's scowl turned sad, he slumped in his chair more.

"Ah, I see. Why is that, exactly?"

"Well, he lives, like, really far away."

Dorian sat forward in his seat, resting his elbows on his knees. "Does he now? Well, do you know his name?"

"Uh…no? I guess not. Mom just says he's my dad. We were supposed to find him here."

"Oh, so 'really far away' is here?"

"I think so? Are we, like, really far away from Denerim?"

"Hmm," Dorian stroked his short beard for a moment—Maker damn this thing, ugh, what I wouldn't kill for a proper shave, "I would say so. There aren't many towns in Fereldan farther away than here."

"Yes!" Ayden's mood changed suddenly. He perked up again, practically bouncing in his seat. "We were on the road for like forever!"

Dorian chuckled. "So, do you know what kind of job he has? What does your mom say about him?"

"Well…" It took the boy a moment, likely recalling anything relevant he'd heard. "She says he's really nice. And funny. And she misses him a lot. She kept saying she wanted to go find him but my grandpa doesn't like him. But grandpa is mean too. And he doesn't care if the king is mean either."

Alistair's mind was practically swimming now. He'd never claim to be a smart man but there was so much of what he said that was practically lining up for him…he couldn't get his hopes up, but maker damn him, he had to know. "Hey, Ayden…do you, um…do you know when your birthday is?"

Ayden grew a proud, almost cocky smile on his face. "10th of Firstfall!"

"Wow," He said, trying to keep a façade of excitement when all he wanted to do was hide in a hole. _No, no, no, no,_ he thought, _answers first…Then you crawl into a pit of self-depreciating void._ "So, how old does that make you now?"

"Well, I'm 4 now. Buuuuut, there was snow in Denerim when we left so that means I'm gonna get another birthday soon."

_Four…he's four…Solona left five years ago…did she really move on that quickly? She wouldn't have done that, it's not like her…but then…?_

"Oh, cool!" Ayden shouted at one of the screens. "Look, it's another monster!"

That got everyone's attention. Everyone except for Solona, that is. She still remained blissfully ignorant of recent events as she slept. The screen showed an ogre bumbling down the street. The video had no sound but it didn't need it to tell the story unfolding out there.

A woman charged up to the ogre from somewhere off-screen. It was difficult to tell with the video quality but she appeared to be wielding some kind of magic. The battle didn't last long, however. Whoever she was, she was clearly unprepared for this fight. The ogre snatched her up in its grasp and threw her into the building. Her body went limp in its hand.

"Hey, kid, you really shouldn't be watching this." Alistair tried turning Ayden away from it but the boy protested.

"No! Look! There's another hero! He's gonna save her!"

Fenris and Dorian crowded around the other side of Ayden's chair. All four of them watched a man in some kind of heavy armor charge up to the beast. The woman fell out of its hand once its attention was turned. The man seemed far more practiced than that poor woman was. He dodged the creature's attacks every time, slicing into it at strategic points.

Dorian chuckled. "Well, someone ate their Warri-O's this morning. Let's just hope he doesn't fall to a painful death, yes?"

For the briefest of moments, the man turned towards the camera. It was then that Alistair was able to get a good look at the man's armor. "That's a Warden!"

"A what?" Solona asked groggily as she sat up. "What's going on?

"If we can get out with the Warden…" Fenris said, mostly to Dorian.

"It's our best shot, I'll wager." Dorian looked to Solona. "What do you think? Have you healed him enough yet?"

"I, um…" Solona rubbed a hand over her face, taking a short moment to get her mind in order. "No. If he does anything more than a paced walk, the leg will break again."

"That Warden won't last long on his own." Alistair readied his weapons and started for the door. "I'm going out there."

"Alistair, no!" Solona suddenly gripped his arm. She looked up at him with fear in her eyes. "We still need to…there's too much unsaid right now, please."

Dorian stepped up to the door. "Never you mind, madam. I'll make sure the templar doesn't soil his britches out there." He ignored the glare he got from Alistair, giving Solona an encouraging smile. "I assure you, he will be in good hands. You just stay here and do what you can for his leg, yes?"

"I—no, there's no way. Even if I pushed myself to complete exhaustion, there's simply not enough time. I'd need more lyrium or more help to do this, I'm sorry."

A somber expression came over Dorian's face, he looked to Fenris. The two shared a short nod before Fenris spoke. "You have your lyrium."

"What? How?"

Fenris sat back down on the floor, with his injured leg extended. He bowed his head, resting in on his bent knee. A short moment passed before his markings started to glow. "Be quick about it."

Ayden's attention was finally turned from the screen. He looked at Fenris with wide, excited eyes. "Whoa! Cool!"

Solona's gaze darted between Fenris and Alistair, she couldn't decide what to focus on. Alistair and Dorian worked together to turn the locking mechanism on the door. They found it was much easier to open the damn thing than to close it. Both men shared a disdainful grunt.

"Alistair, wait!"

Before he even fully turned around, Solona had her arms wrapped around him. She hugged him as tightly as she could manage with all of his armor restricting them. "Please, come back."

"Hey, hey, hey, none of that." He hugged her back with his shield arm. "I said I'd get you two out of here, remember?"

"See? He'll return to you, you'll get your happy ever after and all that." They both shot a glare at Dorian, who only rolled his eyes in response. "I would remind you two lovebirds that there is a poor man fighting alone out there."

"Right…" Alistair pulled away from her reluctantly. He gave her one last smile before he ducked out of the room, Dorian following him closely.

Solona took a deep breath as she returned her attention to her reluctant patient. His face was mostly covered with his hair, but he nodded to her. "Right, then, let's make this quick, shall we?"


	8. Templar's Downfall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The templars attempt to defend the Chantry, where the civilians have taken shelter.

“They keep coming! Help—” The templar’s words cut off as the darkspawn overwhelmed him. Meredith didn’t seem phased much by the sight. It had happened too often in the past hour to warrant any emotion. She didn’t have much left to begin with, not with all that’s happened. These darkspawn were no better than the blood mages they kept in the tower. Perhaps after this is done, the Knight-Commander will finally be convinced to annul the whole Circle outright…

“Knight-Captain, move!”

_Speak of the demon_ , she thought. But she wasn’t interested in whatever order he was about to bark at her. The battle was simply too chaotic to entertain his prattle. She kept herself focused on her self-appointed task: bringing as many of these foul creatures down as she possibly could.

Before she was able to bring her greatsword up, a pair of hurlocks charged at her. She stepped back, hoping to give herself the moment she’d need to defend herself. But instead the Knight-Commander appeared before her suddenly, blocking the hurlocks’ blows with his shield. He shoved them backwards, they stumbled just out of his sword’s reach. 

Cullen readied himself, waiting for the darkspawn to make their move before he’d attack. This was nothing like fighting mages. His templars had made quick work of the emissaries, but somehow the grunts posed a greater threat. Many of the recruits had been lost already, and more than a few Lieutenants. He was down to his elite officers, Maker help him. 

They never trained for this. But Andraste as his witness, he would make damn sure they were prepared next time. And there would be a next time. He shot a quick glance around, surveying his remaining forces. They were tired now, the darkspawn seemed endless. Their position seemed hopeless…

The hurlocks regained themselves and charged at him once again. But before they came within his reach, they were both pegged with expertly aimed arrows. Cullen scanned his surroundings and quickly found the archer, perched precariously on the roof of a nearby building. He didn’t recognize the man, but that armor…he was a Warden. Thank the Maker for small miracles.

From behind him, one of the Knight-Lieutenants began shouting. “The Lady Seeker! She’s alive!”

Even in the midst of the battle, Cullen picked up on the disgusted look Meredith shot her. He’d have to remember to scold her for her demeanor later. Cassandra let loose a battle cry as she charged up to one of the Hurlock Alphas. With three precise hits and a few helpful arrows, the monster fell. With it’s death, some of the grunts began to scatter aimlessly. The templars were able to cut them down easily now.

With the momentary reprieve, Cullen called to his men. “Focus on the Alphas! Hold nothing back!”

The battle turned in their favor quickly once they were properly coordinated. More and more of the grunts fell to the Warden’s arrows, leaving the templars open to deal with the bigger threats. It was only a few more tense moments before the last monster before them was cut down. Cullen looked to the rooftop, hoping to thank the Warden for his help but the man unfortunately had vanished already. The templars cheered triumphantly, celebrating their victory amongst themselves. 

But Cullen was in no mood to celebrate. All he could see were the lives lost; he couldn’t help but feel personally responsible for each and every one of them. His family remained safe within the sturdy walls of the Chantry behind him. But so many more people were overrun. Innocent people. His own Templars, too. Maker save him, he should have done more…he should have…no! He wouldn’t think of that. Not here, not now. Preferably, not ever. But that would be too much to ask…he never got to make it right, if he even could…

“Knight-Commander?” The Seeker asked with concern in her voice. “Are you well?”

“Yes, of course. Apologies, Lady Seeker.” He straightened his posture purely out of ingrained habit. “What would you ask of me?”

She didn’t appear convinced of his well being but she mercifully recognized it was not the time to press the issue. “I’d like to apologize for my absence…I was indisposed, unwillingly. It will not happen again.”

Cullen smiled politely to her. “No need to apologize, Seeker, I’m simply pleased to see you in one piece.”

Cassandra returned his smile with a short nod. “I assume you’ve defended the civilians successfully?”

“Of course! The Templars could not be defeated by these foul creatures!” Meredith eyed Cassandra with an arrogant sneer. “We were blessed by the Maker’s hand today, and we did not falter!”

More than a few of the remaining Templars cheered at her words. Their reaction seemed to spark anger in Cullen. He whipped around to face them. “Need I remind you of the cost of our victory? Of how many of your brothers and sisters died to achieve it?” He stepped up to Meredith and nearly spat his words at her. “You lost your command for your careless actions once. And your bloody pride nearly cost us our foothold today. If you so much as take one step out of turn, I will personally see you exiled.”

Meredith was enraged, she shouted right back at him. Cullen might have tried to keep her discipline discreet, but she would not go down quietly. “You would sentence your own Knight-Captain to exile? For doing the Maker’s work?”

“You do your own work!” Cullen’s shoulders squared, he pointed his finger accusingly at her. “You think of everyone and everything around you as some sort of pawn! I will not allow your arrogance to jeopardize my people further!”

“How dare you—!” Meredith’s hands clenched into fists and she stepped towards Cullen. But before it could come to blows, Cassandra placed herself between them. 

She shoved them away from each other as she scolded them. “Enough! This is getting us nowhere!”

Cullen grunted towards Meredith. “Well, I think we’re agreed on that much.”

“We are agreed on nothing—”

“I said enough!” Cassandra shoved Meredith further away. “Your Knight-Commander has spoken. If you take offense with his rulings, I’ll escort you to the Divine myself.” It wasn’t hard to notice the sneer on Meredith’s face deepened into a scowl. “I’m sure our Most Holy would be delighted to have you in his presence again.”

Cullen had to bite back a smirk as he watched Meredith stomp away defeatedly. With the spectacle clearly over with, the remaining Templars shuffled back into the chantry, likely for a much-needed rest. 

Perhaps the Lady Seeker had truly seen Meredith for what she was during her time here in Lothering. He couldn’t help but admire her for her diligent observations in her short time here— _would it be inappropriate to compliment her? Probably, don’t risk it._ A small bit of hope brewed in him; maybe, just maybe, the Seeker could remove Meredith from the Order once and for all. He cleared his throat as Cassandra turned back to him. “Lady Seeker, I must apologize for that display.”

“Unnecessary.” She waived off the sentiment as if it were a pesky fly. “In fact, I agree with your judgement. I believe the Knight-Captain has much to answer for.”

Cullen’s expression grew serious. “Have you discovered something?”

“I cannot say for sure. But certain circumstances are…suspicious to say the least.” Cassandra took a quick look around, ensuring no one was listening. “Tell me, did she pick her patrol this morning?”

“Yes, but that is standard procedure. She makes the schedule; therefore, she allows herself the preference.”

“I see…She’s made no secret of her resentment of your leadership. I find it curious that she was the one who responded to the watchtower so readily when the wall began to fall.”

Cullen’s mind was never made for secrets and machinations. He was glad the Seeker was kind enough to spell it out for him. “Curious is one word for it, certainly. I have questions for her myself. She went on patrol this morning with my newest Lieutenant. He didn’t return with her.”

“Forgive me, Commander, but is it not likely that he perished in the fighting?”

“Possibly…”

“But you do not believe that.”

“No, I don’t. The Lieutenant was—is—a friend of mine. I trained him myself. His beliefs might be unorthodox but he’s a capable warrior. If he truly fell to the darkspawn, then Meredith had a hand in it, I’m sure of it.”

Cassandra seemed rather interested in this new accusation. “Would she have had a reason to betray him?”

Cullen hesitated for a moment, knowing he was about to have a difficult conversation with the Seeker. He had come to respect her now. He truly hoped this wouldn’t be the end of their cordiality. “Alistair was raised as one of the Chantry orphans. He’s only half-human. Meredith made it very clear when I recruited him that she wouldn’t accept an ‘orphaned half-breed’ within our ranks.”

Much to his surprise, Cassandra made a disgusted noise. “I assure you, neither the Maker nor the Divine have ever declared such nonsense. There are plenty of elves that serve the Chantry in many forms, for that matter. Purely ridiculous.”

He let out a heavy breath. “That’s a relief.”

“Were you expecting a racist rant, Knight-Commander?”

Cullen chuckled nervously, despite himself. Andraste preserve me, I hope that wasn’t too informal. “I’ve found that I prefer to be pleasantly surprised rather than unprepared.”

Cassandra grew a smirk as she nodded in agreement. “With your leave, I would like to question her personally.”

“You don’t need my permission, Lady Seeker.” Her consideration brought a smile to his face. When she first arrived within the city, he thought she meant to depose him. But as the weeks passed, she’d grown on him. A small part of him hoped he could call her a friend. But now wasn’t the time for such petty sentiments, there was still too much to be done after all.

“Of course not,” She said, returning his smile. “I ask out of respect, for a friend.”

Whatever reply Cullen was about to formulate was interrupted by some metallic object flying at their heads. He noticed it far before Cassandra did, snapping his shield in front of them to block the projectile.

“Hey! That’s not the right ‘ship!”

More and more objects were being thrown at them within seconds of the last. Cassandra managed to peer around Cullen’s shield. She recognized the assailant immediately. It was none other than that damnable elf. “You!”

Myrris lifted a templar’s helmet high above his head dramatically before he chucked it at Cullen’s shield. “Nobody suspects the Fereldan Inquisition!”

“You there, Elf! Surrender, now!”

“You’ll never take me alive, Scruffles! Wait, no, that wasn’t it…um, oh yeah! Curly!”

Cullen was so perplexed by this madman that he wasn’t sure he even wanted to arrest him so much as question him. “What in the Maker’s name…?”

Cassandra drew her sword and charged toward Myrris. “Commander, with me! After him!”

Myrris cackled manically as he sprinted away, ducking and diving through streets and alleyways until he had successfully led Cullen and Cassandra to where he last saw Salem. With only a brief couple of moments to spare before they caught up to him, he peered around the final corner carefully, hoping that he had made the right decision to get her help…


	9. Silence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rainier strikes a deal with Alistair, while Cullen and Cassandra attempt to save their remaining forces...

_Maker, if you’re watching, a bit of help would be awfully kind._

Rainier narrowly dodged the Ogre’s fist as it attempted to backhand him. The Ogre was thrown off balance for a fleeting moment, giving Rainer just enough time to knock it down to its knees. Suddenly the door to a nearby building flew open, a pair of men came charging through it. One stood within the doorway, chucking fireballs and spirit magic (he assumed, mostly from the color) at the Ogre. An apostate, surely. The other man—a templar by the looks of it—seemed to have been suffering from a fit of heroics. He leapt onto the Ogre’s shoulders and began hacking and slashing away at the creature’s head.

The Ogre roared in pain. It began to stumble to its feet but suddenly its legs were encased in a solid mass of thick ice. Salem’s chest heaved as she picked herself up off the ground. She wiped the blood from her mouth and leaned against the building for support. Her legs were shaking from the effort of supporting her weight.

It was then that Rainer noticed her eyes…she seemed to notice his as well. A look of understanding but also uncertainty flashed over her face. _Another warden? Can’t be…_

Another earth-shaking roar from the Ogre snapped his attention back to the beast. He raised his shield, ready to charge in and help the poor bastards…but it seemed he wasn’t needed. With the Ogre temporarily immobilized, the templar was able to gain a proper footing on its shoulders. He let loose a battle cry as he drove his sword through the top of the Ogre’s skull.

Rainier watched the scene in awe. Personal experience had told him that Ogre’s heads are akin to iron. What that templar managed was no mean feat…if it weren’t for the obvious political rift between their factions, he’d have a mind to recruit him…

The Ogre’s movements stilled instantly upon its death. But soon gravity took over and the Ogre’s limp body was sent tumbling harshly to the ground. The templar’s heroic battle cry was suddenly replaced with what could only be described as a near-girlish yelp. Rainer shook his head as he watched the templar uncontrollably fall down to the pavement. His armor made a horrendous clank as it collided with the street. After a short moment the templar groaned loudly. “Owwwwwww.”

_Maker’s balls. How in the void did the Templars ever manage to defeat the Wardens?_

Rainer elected to ignore whatever idiocy that was for the moment. Turning his attention back to the woman, he sheathed his weapon and offered a hand to her. “My lady, you’re injured.”

“Nothing that won’t heal.” Salem eyed him skeptically. She didn’t move to shake his hand or accept his assistance. “You’re a Warden, aren’t you?”

He nodded shortly. Pleasantries were fine and good and all but he needed answers. “Warden-Commander Rainer. Where are you from? Who do you serve under?”

“I, uh…” Salem scrabbled for something plausible to say…he’d never believe the truth after all. Even though he was notably absent, she could practically hear her Elder’s voice drilling into her about how dishonorable lies are. 

A sudden boom echoed from somewhere not too far away. The sky flashed a bright, almost angry red for a moment as debris came flying down the alleyways all around them. Rainier pulled Salem behind his shield to protect her, but not quickly enough it seemed. A small rock collided with her head, she fell limp instantly. Rainer had to check to ensure she was in fact still breathing. As he peered into the distance, he noticed one of those taller buildings was nearly decimated. Red fire engulfed the thing, alarms sounded off again all throughout the city.

“Forgive me,” Rainer muttered to her as he hauled the unconscious woman into his arms. He knew she couldn’t hear him, but the chivalrous part of him was screaming it was wrong to touch a woman without permission. _Maker save me, I can’t lose another Warden now._

“Warden, wait!” The templar scrambled to his feet quicker than Rainier had expected, he stood in front of him to block his path. His chest heaved, he held his hands out towards him in a pleading motion. 

Rainier squared his shoulders. “Stand aside, Templar. I don’t want to fight you.”

“No, no, no, no, I don’t want a bloody fight!” He pointed to the doorway of the building he had emerged from. “Please, take them with you.”

Rainier turned briefly to see a frightened woman, clutching a child in her arms. She looked exhausted. Another man stood beside her, he looked just as ragged as that apostate. Rainier’s expression was pained as he brought his attention back to the templar. “I’m sorry, truly, but the Wardens can’t offer charity…”

The templar’s eyes darted to the woman and the child, a thought must have crossed his mind quickly as he looked down at his templar’s uniform. “But you’ll protect a Warden’s family, yes?”

Rainier eyed the Templar curiously. “We will.”

The templar’s expression grew serious. “Then recruit me.”

“Alistair, no!” Tears welled up in Solona’s eyes, she shook her head at him. “Please, you don’t have to do this!”

“It’s alright, Solona.” Alistair offered her a small smile before addressing Rainier again. “I understand the risks. Save Solona and Ayden and I’ll join your order, you have my word.”

“Alistair, huh?” Rainier said as he studied him. “You wouldn’t happen to be elf-born would you?”

Alistair snarled at the Warden, crossing his arms defensively across his chest. “That has nothing to do with my abilities. I’ve proven myself to the Templars and I’ll prove myself to the Wardens too.”

Rainier seemed to consider him for a moment but nodded shortly to him. “Fine, then. I accept your terms. Your recruitment for the woman and child’s safety.” He motioned to the other two men with them. “What of you two, hmm?”

The other two men muttered to themselves, seemingly arguing. Another blast of red filled the sky momentarily, as if to drive home the fact that the city was threatening to fall apart around them. The dark-haired man stepped forward—which was definitely not what they had discussed, according to the look on the white-haired man’s face—and addressed Rainier. “Dorian Pavus. I’d give you a formal resume, but given the circumstance: suffice it to say I’m an accomplished mage of exceptional talent. Grant my friend and I safe passage, and I’ll join you as well.”

Rainer nodded, accepting Dorian seemingly without a second thought—something that Alistair picked up on right away, much to his offense. “Very well. We make for Denerim, quick as we can.”

**

“This better not be Blondie again! Where in the void did he get explosive dragon shit?!” Myrris screamed as he tried to keep up the pace with Cullen and Cassandra. He marveled for a moment about how quickly their dynamic changed, again. It dawned on him that this whole adventure so far could be described as him running away from the Warrior Goddess and then to her, and away from and then to…which one was he doing again?

Another flash of red brought him back to the current events—as did Cullen’s voice snapping at him.

“Either help or leave us! I won’t have—” 

Cullen reacted quickly as a terror demon suddenly shot out of the ground in front of him. In a move fueled by pure fear, he lopped the demon’s head clean off before it could even touch him. Within seconds, the three of them were surround by five more demons. Each demon burst out of the ground around them, as if they had consciously planned to encircle them.

Cassandra roared as she slammed her greatsword into the ground. A blue light burst from her, seemingly stunning the demons momentarily. Both Templar and Seeker were quick to take advantage of it. Myrris managed to kick one of the demons before Cassandra put an end to it. “Look at me, I’m helping!”

The seeker made a disgusted noise in his direction but otherwise didn’t acknowledge him. “Cullen, are you hurt?”

“Not at all, thanks to you.” He gave her a small, pained smile. He was clearly still unnerved by the sudden proximity to the demons. As he studied the remaining distance to the circle tower, his smile faded completely. Demons were seemingly pouring out of it, attacking mages and templars alike. A few scattered darkspawn were present, attacking any and all targets as well. It was utter chaos. Brutal, violent chaos. It was like one of his nightmares come to life. Cullen desperately hoped beyond hope that he’d wake up soon. He could forget this nightmare, write it off like all of the rest…maybe it all had been a nightmare. Maybe he’d wake up next to Ashley once more…maybe he’d fix it all before it even happened…if he even deserved that now…

“Cullen!”

Cassandra shook him by the shoulders, her eyes showed an unusual amount of emotion. She was scared, concerned, worried. For him? For Lothering? For Thedas? Maker, she probably should be…

“I—I apologize—we…” Cullen focused hard to get the what ifs out of his mind. Maker knows they were no use to him now. He was the Knight-Commander, he had responsibilities, obligations… _what do I do?_ He shook his head, as if the motion could wash away the weight of his guilt. All of this was his failure…wasn’t it? “The circle…is lost…We gather the civilians and leave at once.”

“Understood.” Cassandra still eyed him cautiously. It took him a moment to realize why; he couldn’t seem to pull his eyes away from the scene ahead. She put herself in front of him again, forcing him to notice her instead of the chaos. “We need to move, Cullen. The civilians need our help.”

“Yes. Of course…”

“Hey! Curly!” Myrris started walking backwards towards the chantry’s direction. “You have a sister, right? Or wait—two sisters? Brothers? Whatever! Your family is in the chantry, yeah?”

“My…? Maker’s mercy!” Cullen’s eyes grew alert instantly. He took off in a dead sprint, nearly knocking Myrris off of his feet when he brushed harshly passed him. 

Cassandra shoved passed him as well, she nearly spat as she spoke to him. “Keep up, elf.”

“You’re welcome! Feeling sorely unappreciated right now!”

Demons attempted to block their way at almost every turn. The streets filled more and more with the bodies of templars, mages, and unlucky civilians as they neared closer and closer to the chantry. Myrris managed to swipe a pair of longswords from a couple of dead templars. Cassandra was surprised when the mad elf actually started to pull his weight in combat, but Cullen was far too focused to notice. The demons fell one by one until they finally caught sight of the chantry. 

The three of them witnessed an unexpected sight on the steps of the large, sturdy building. Only a handful of templars remained, but along with them, a Warden—the one who had helped them fight off the darkspawn—stood fighting as well. Cullen was immensely relieved to see that the demons had not yet breeched the chantry’s doors. But it wasn’t for a lack of trying it seemed. The waves of enemies seemed endless, when one fell it was as if another came right from it…and Maker, the undead…his own templars…

“With me!” Cassandra roared as she charged into the fray, with her greatsword raised high. Cullen and Myrris followed closely behind. They fought their way to the steps, much to the relief of the templars there.

“Sir!” A templar called to Cullen, between attacks. “Rylen’s been injured. Barris took him inside. They’ve a plan—”

Cullen stepped in just in time to block an attack that the templar would have missed. “Fall back! All of you, into the chantry!”

Cassandra heaved her greatsword over her head, smashing it down once again with a much greater force than she had before. The blue light she emitted was much larger, but seemed to fatigue her as well. Many of the demons were dazed for a couple of short moments, allowing them all to retreat behind the chantry’s doors just in time.

As soon as the doors closed, the demons began pounding against it. The doors wouldn’t hold for long, but for now they were safe enough…Cullen turned back to examine the great hall, only to find that it was not at all like he had left it.

It had once been filled with scared and desperate civilians. But now, all it seemed to hold were injured templars and many of the elder residents of Lothering. Cullen immediately recognized his mother among them. She walked quickly up to him and pulled him down to her height into a tight hug. “Oh, my boy, I’m so glad you’re alive.”

“Mother! Where is everyone? What’s going on?”

“Oh, Cullen, such a worrier. You’ve always had such a good heart.” She pulled away from him, with a sad look in her eye.

Now that he took a moment to look her over, he noticed she was wearing pieces of templar armor. She had a pair of daggers strapped to her thighs. Cullen’s brows furrowed as the part of him that had pieced it all together was warring with the part of him that was still holding onto vain hope. “I don’t understand…”

“Yes, you do.” A tear fell from his mother’s eye as she gestured to those that remained in the chantry. “We’re going to hold the line. We’ll make sure the rest of you make it out in time.”

“No! There’s another way! I’ll find it, I’ll—”

“Hush, my boy.” She pulled him into a hug again. “It’s alright. I’m going to see your father again. But I need you to be strong.”

He didn’t realize it at first but he was shaking. His mother’s shoulder was suddenly wet from his own tears. He wasn’t even sure if he was more saddened or angry at the moment, but whatever it was, he couldn’t contain it. Damn who saw it, and damn what they thought… “I’m so sorry—I should have done more—I should—” 

The doors were starting to buckle under the weight of the demons’ assault. The wood creaked ominously. A few of the templars flew to the doors, trying to keep them closed for as long as possible.

“We’re out of time. I need you to hear me, Cullen, and listen well: get our people to safety. You can do this. I believe in you. Whatever comes, know this: I am so proud of you.”

A large hole suddenly formed in one of the doors. The arm of a pride demon reached in and grabbed a templar, pulling him through the hole. The demons seemed to frenzy at the sight, the templar didn’t scream for long…

The Warden started shooting arrows through the exposed hole. “Ready yourselves!”

Myrris pushed Cassandra and Cullen towards the back, where a vault-like door was standing open for them. From the looks of it, it led to a staircase that would go below the ground. Likely a tunnel out of the city. “Go, go, go! You guys can’t die here!”

Cullen tried hard to remain cemented in his spot. “NO!”

Cassandra had to yank him away as his mother stepped back from him. It was a considerable distance, but the seeker managed to drag him along with her. Myrris couldn’t help but feel an overwhelming amount of sympathy for the poor guy. He made a mental note never to prank his thedas’s Cullen again. 

Cullen’s mother smiled as she watched Cassandra pull her son behind the small security door at the very back of the room. Now that the seeker had successfully locked them inside, he’d have no choice but to join the rest of the refugees. He was safe, as was the rest of her children and grandchildren. She turned to face the doors again. They were buckling quickly. It wouldn’t be long before they’d be overwhelmed now. She steeled herself as she brought her daggers into her hands.

She looked around at her comrades one last time. She’d known many of these people for most of her life. She’d watched some of the younger templars as they raised into adults. Even a lone Warden was giving his life in defense of her people. She didn’t recognize the elven man standing next to her, but in that moment it didn’t matter. As she began to recite the chant of light, the others joined in. As the demons broke through the doors, they only chanted louder. And as the last of them were cut down…all that was left was Silence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...sorry. For all of it. But, um, I kinda have to put this story on hiatus for a while. A death in the family kinda killed my inspiration, and I really don't want to try and force this. I promise to continue it once I get my head straight. But seriously, thank you all for reading, I hope you've enjoyed it so far.


	10. Rights of the Departing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen is placed in a difficult situation as the remaining survivors continue to deal with the aftermath of the attack.

Cassandra frowned sympathetically as she looked Cullen over from afar. It had been hours since they made it to the refugee camp but he hadn’t said a word. His expression had been locked in what she could only describe as a blank, nervous, horror. He even hadn’t moved since he found his spot in front of the fire. He sat close to the doctor’s tent, anxiously awaiting word on Rylen’s condition. The news that one of his best friends was on death’s door only served to compound whatever mental demons he was battling. He felt responsible, that much was clear even without the words to validate it. _He’d carry the entirety of Thedas upon his shoulders it seems,_ she mused, _but how much can he truly bare?_

Not even his siblings seemed to console him. But then again, they all appeared to be influenced by their own grief as well. Not that she could blame them. Losing a mother, a home, and countless friends must be a truly horrifying ordeal. She hadn’t experienced much loss herself beyond Anthony…and that was a long time ago, a wound that had been healed for years now. She felt the urge to speak to Cullen, offer some sort of sympathy, but she was unsure that it would do any good. She wasn’t naïve enough to think that whatever she could say would have the sort of miraculously uplifting affect he’d need. Maker knows words were never her strong suit.

She turned her attention back to this make-shift war table instead. She had been assisting Barris in organizing the survivors and planning their next move. An agonizing task to be sure, hours into it and they still weren’t positive that they had an accurate head count. They had only a roughly hand drawn map of Lothering that was as accurate as Barris’s own memory served. 

“…Lady Seeker?”

Cassandra snapped back to attention like she’d been physically pulled to it. “Yes. I apologize, Ser Barris, my mind was elsewhere.”

Barris nodded in acknowledgement. “Perhaps you should rest, Seeker?”

“Thank you, but I will manage.” She scanned over the map again, “Have we made further progress?”

Barris sighed heavily. “A little, ma’am. I believe we’ve rallied an accurate number of the missing…but the…death toll…well, that…”

“Depends on Ser Rylen…?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Cassandra looked him over for a moment. Emotions were just as difficult as words seemed to be for her, but she placed a comforting hand on his shoulder nonetheless. “I understand that Ser Rylen is a close friend. You have my sympathies, for what it is worth.”

“Thank you, Lady Seeker.” Barris straightened up, hardening his expression. “I will not let it distract from my duties.”

“I have no doubt.” She gave a small smile that she could only hope was encouraging. _Maker, was that awkward?_ She was almost relieved when a frantic templar came scurrying up to Barris.

“Ser! There’s, um, we-we-found—among the survivors, there’s…” The templar looked as if she were terrified to even utter the simple word. It was such a dramatic reaction that Cassandra nearly rolled her eyes. “M-mages! They claim to be townspeople but you can just smell the foul magic on them!”

Barris rubbed a hand over his forehead, uttering a curse under his breath. “You can’t smell magic. And I highly doubt any mage would be fool enough to escape the tower and run right into our camp.”

“But I swear it, ser! They’re mages, through and through! They’ll bring the demons here! The darkspawn too!”

“Quiet, Recruit!” Barris squared up to the templar, “I will look into the matter if you’re so certain but I will not have you starting a witch-hunt. Now, find yourself a cot and sleep it off. You’re dismissed.”

The templar’s shoulders sunk under Barris’s harsh gaze. She shuffled off without another word, with the eyes of many of the surrounding refugees on her. As soon as she was out of earshot, Barris turned back to Cassandra. “Maker, what you must think of our order. I could have vouched personally for each and every one of them before today…They were good templars, every last one of them…”

Cassandra held up her hand to stop him. “There is no need. They have been through an ordeal. It would be unbecoming to judge them too harshly.”

“Well, that’s a relief.” He replied with a small, almost forced smile.

“I will, however, be remembering those that who stood out in this trying time. Specifically, those who willingly took the responsibility of command when his fellow templars needed a leader.”

“I, uh, forgive me, Seeker, but I wouldn’t have my actions speak ill of Cullen…”

“Of course not. I had to drag him out of the city, quite literally. I saw firsthand what he had to leave behind, what he had to face. Were the circumstances not so personally dire to him, I have no doubt he’d be where you are now…But that doesn’t deter from the fact that he is indisposed and someone had to lead in the interim. I will see that the Divine himself rewards you for this, you have my word.”

“That’s, um, very kind, Lady Seeker. But I didn’t do this for some kind of reward, it simply had to be done.”

Cassandra gave him a knowing smile as she gestured towards the direction the templar recruit had come from. “See to these mage rumors, I can handle things here for the moment.”

“Thank you, ma’am.” He gave a small bow as he turned to leave. Everything about his outward demeanor suggested he was cool, calm, and had everything and anything under control. But internally he felt as though he had his head just barely above ever-rising water.

It was a sentiment Cullen shared. But for him the water was rising faster and faster. It was water made of demons, darkspawn, fire, death and endless screams of torment—were they the ones they lost or his own? He couldn’t get the image of his mother’s crying face out of his head. Maker, what she must think of him now. He failed. Fundamentally failed. At every last step. There was nothing to be proud of. Nothing but shame and sadness. He was supposed to be getting better, to be starting over and thriving once again. But Lothering was in ashes. Everything he worked for, everything he ever achieved was gone. He was supposed to be atoning after what he did. How do you atone when all that is left is ash and ruin? It felt like the end. Nothing left. Nothing to make better, nothing will ever be better. Maker what he wouldn’t give for it all just to end…

“…Knight-Commander?”

Cullen nearly jumped as the doctor’s voice startled him out of his rapid downward spiral. “Uh, yes?”

The doctor’s eyes wandered over him for a moment, as if he were trying to piece together a complicated puzzle. “I’m afraid we don’t have the proper equipment to deal with Ser Rylen’s wounds…”

The words sunk in slowly. He rose to his unsteady feat, coming close enough to whisper to the man. “What does that mean?”

A sympathetic look crossed the doctor’s face for a moment. “If he’s your friend, I’d speak with him now…I was going to send for a priest…” He locked eyes with Cullen as if to make sure he understood him completely. “…to commend him to the Maker.”

Angry tears welled up in Cullen’s eyes once again. He had a near overwhelming urge to hit him. It was stupid and irrational and Cullen knew it. The need to make someone pay for this crime and the knowledge that his behavior was unbecoming of him was warring inside him. It served to drive him further into his own madness. 

The doctor seemed to notice. The blonde man took a step back from Cullen, slowly inching away. “I’ll be back with the priest shortly.”

Cullen was left alone, staring at the flap at the tent’s entrance. For a moment all he could think of was running away. Not that he had a specific destination in mind, but ‘anywhere away from here’ sounded just so appealing. But no, that was selfish and he knew it. He wasn’t raised to run away from his problems. He could almost hear his father’s voice scolding him. He looked back at the table Barris and Cassandra had been standing around, hoping that his long time friend might accompany him. But Barris was gone. Only Cassandra stood at the table, seemingly working through whatever the current crisis was…doing his job…Maker, he wanted to hit something. 

He took a deep breath to steady himself but it didn’t help much. That drowning feeling was only worsening by the second. As if his fears were actually slowly suffocating him. His shaky hand pulled back the flap of the tent and stepped inside before he could think about it any further. Rylen was nearly covered in blood, and not all of it was red. Seeing the black blood around the wound in his stomach really drove home the reality…he was tainted…his friend wasn’t coming back…

“Hey!” Rylen said with a small cough. “None of that shite. Bad enough your face is the last I gotta see, don’t need ya blubberin’ about it.”

Cullen huffed a laugh as he pulled up a stool next to the cot. “Would you prefer I began performing a riverdance, instead?”

“Ya do that, and I’ll croak right here and now, I swear it.” A violent coughing fit broke whatever levity he’d just built up. Black blood colored his hand he’d covered his mouth with. 

Cullen hung his head in his hands. “Maker, Rylen, I’m so sorry.”

“Oh, for fucks sake, Cullen. Not like ya were the one who ran me threw. That damned ‘spawn did that, the bloody bastard. Do me a favor, eh?”

“I’ll cut down every last one of those monsters, I swear it.”

“Aye, much obliged, hero. But ya oughta be doin’ that anyhow.” Rylen groaned as he shifted uncomfortably. He reached under the cot and pulled out his sword, handing it out to Cullen. 

He visibly stiffened as he took the sword from him. “What…? No…no, this is no time for a joke.”

“It aint a bloody joke, Cullen, look at me!” He winced as he moved again, gesturing to the wound in his stomach. “Does this shite look a damned joke, to you? I aint long for this world, even the doc said so.”

“No, no, it’s not—no, I can—I’ll find a mage, I’ll make them heal you!”

Rylen rolled his bloodshot eyes. “Ah, come on, hero, that damned doc was a mage.” 

“He…what?”

“Aye, it’s clicking now is it? Hadn’t seen him at the clinic before, had ya? Don’t ya be trying ta track that one down after I kick the bucket, eh? Matter of fact—remember his name: Anders—blighter was a good man. He did what he could. You find him, you give him the courtesy—” Rylen coughed hard again. “Listen, damnit. Whether I bleed out or the corruption gets me, it’s gonna be slow. I don’t wanna be writhing and moaning like a bitch for hours til I die…” He pushed the sword further into Cullen’s grip. “Make it quick, please.”

“I…no! I can’t…”

“What? Do ya need me ta get on my knees and beg, ya? I’m fucking asking ya here. I wanna choose my own death.”

Tears were threatening to flow again. Cullen shook as he tried to contain it. He couldn’t bring himself to look at his friend anymore. “Rylen, please there’s already been so much death…”

“And none of it is on you. Ya hear me? Not even mine. I took a blade protecting a frightened pair of kids and I’d fucking do it again. I don’t have anyone waiting for me ta get better. I’ve served my purpose but I’m a liability now. So get this shite over with so ya can get back ta doin’ yer damned job.”

Cullen was shaking uncontrollably now. He couldn’t tell when the tears began to fall down his cheeks but all he knew was he couldn’t stop them now. He felt Rylen’s hand weakly grip his and begin to slowly guide the sword towards him. 

Through small coughs, he began reciting a part of the chant meant for the dead and dying. “The light shall lead her safely, through the paths of this world, and into the next…”

He still couldn’t open his eyes to look at him, but Cullen reluctantly let Rylen guide him. With uneven words, he continued the chant with him. “For she who trusts in the Maker, fire is her water, as the moth sees the light and goes towards the flame…” He stepped closer to the cot, raising the sword as Rylen guided it into position. “…She should see fire and go towards the Light.”

The way Rylen recited his last words felt as if he made it personal. As if he was trying to reassure his friend in his final moments. “The Veil holds no uncertainty for her, and she will know no fear of death, For the Maker shall be her beacon…and her shield…her foundation…” He guided the tip of the sword down until it rested tightly over his heart. “…and her sword.”

Summoning whatever bits of strength he had left, he heeded his friend’s dying wish. He drove the sword easily through Rylen’s chest; refusing to open his eyes until he heard the last rattle of breath leave him. Cullen forced himself to look over Rylen’s body for a brief moment in order to satisfy some need to face the problem head on. The only comfort he could discern from the whole thing was that he seemed content when he died…there was a faint smile that slowly faded from his face as lifelessness took over his body.

It was only a small reassurance that he’d done the right thing. But knowing his friend died by his own hand overshadowed it completely. He reverted into a near mechanical state as he took his next actions. He wasn’t even sure that he had commanded himself to do it, but he saw himself doing it nonetheless, and felt no urge to stop it. He walked calmly back out to the fire, reaching in to grab a burning log. There was no pain registered in his mind until much later. He placed the burning log beneath Rylen’s cot and tied the flap to the tent shut. He sat down again by the fire, his burned hand laying limply at his side.

He wasn’t sure how long it had taken anyone to notice that the tent was on fire, or how long it was before someone tended to his hand. But none of it mattered. He stared blankly into the fire, feeling nothing, slowly but surely delving into caring about nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the support and the patience, guys! I'm hoping to be updating regularly now.
> 
> Also, sorry to come back with a super depressing chapter....there's fluff in the near future, I swear!


	11. A Hawke's Nest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ashley Hawke introduces herself to the Magisterium of Kirkwall...

"Magister Hawke? Anything to add?"

Ashley's gaze hardened as she overlooked the proceeding. She wanted nothing more than to melt that smug look right off of Danarius's face. But she owed it to so many more people to be worthy of her new position, her new title. The magisterium demanded a certain modicum of conduct—but then again, what kind of person would she be if she adhered solely to that? Perhaps she really does have too much of her father in her. This was her father's position just two weeks ago…and just last week…he was the one down there in chains…Ashley shook off that image, focusing herself back to the task at hand.

There were five prisoners this time. Two elven slaves, an Altus (at least he claimed to be but Ashley hadn't heard of his family name, leaving her to believe that he wasn't even from Kirkwall), and a Soparati who claimed not to know a thing about what was happening. Ashley was inclined to believe him at least; it was unlikely that a commoner would risk the ire of their Viscount. The last prisoner though was a rather odd one. She was a young elven woman wearing very simple clothes—too simple even for a slave. Judging by her facial tattoos, she was Dalish. Danarius never had an interest in the Dalish before. It begged a bigger question: what exactly was he playing at?

Ashley schooled her reaction back down. The last thing she needed was to have Danarius thinking his antics actually piqued her interest. "Even the commoners want to kill you this time, Danarius? My but what will the press say?"

Danarius huffed an arrogant laugh. "Whatever I want them to, my dear."

Magister Pavus sneered, slouching a little further in his chair. He muttered under his breath so only Ashley could hear. "If that isn't the truth."

The Viscount cocked his head to the side as he looked Ashley over once again. "I'd be remiss if I didn't hear your exact opinion, Magister."

As she rose from her seat, she glared daggers into him. It surprised her a little that she didn't even think about the defiance of such an act. But code of conducts be damned, she wasn't entertaining this charade. "If you want my opinion then listen well: if you've already exiled your greatest threat, then stop looking for daggers in the shadows."

"My greatest threat?" He seemed genuinely shocked only for a moment before a cocky expression took over again. "Such a callous way to refer to your former lover."

She knew what he was doing. He wanted to discredit her in front of the Magisterium. Perhaps a few months ago that would have worked. But with so long without Fenris…with the exile of her best friend, her twin brother, and then the death of her father…she was very quickly losing any reason to play nice. No more, not if it means that she slowly has to watch everyone she cares about fade away. Who's next, then? Bethany? Carver? Her grief-stricken mother? One of the few remaining friends she had left?

Was Danarius expecting her to deny it? To say she never cared about him just to save a little face? She adopted a smirk of her own, choosing her words very carefully. "Come now, Danarius, you can do better than the 'oh maker help us, she has an elven lover' card. But you're right, Fenris and I are very, very close."

The cockiness faded from Danarius considerably. "You speak of him as if were still alive."

"But how could he be? You saw him exiled yourself after all, which is itself a death sentence, yes? Worse than a death sentence actually, if memory serves…did you not wish that on him as you threw him outside the wall?"

"How could you have known that?!"

"Oh, wouldn't you like to know?"

"Tell me right this moment! Is Fenris alive?!"

"That's not fear I smell, is it?"

"Fenris is my property! I demand to know his whereabouts!"

Ashley's sneer deepened. It hadn't escaped her notice that the whole room was on the edge of their seats. She didn't care to look at them all, she already knew what they were doing: trying to pick a side. It must have been quite the sight, she mused. The sweet, quiet daughter of Malcolm Hawke verbally sinking her talons into the self-proclaimed Champion of Kirkwall. Danarius always claimed that he was the city's only hope. But that was about to change, if Ashley had anything to say about it.

"Well, if he were your property then I would guess his first stop would be paying you a visit, wouldn't it?" Danarius's eyes widened. The whole room fell silent for a moment. "My opinion, your excellency? Run on home and throw a proper welcome party."

His whole face turned red—she wasn't sure if it was out of embarrassment or rage. He turned angrily on his heel and stalked out of the room. Quite a few prominent magisters followed him out, Ashley studied them immediately, committing each of their faces to memory.

"Taking notes, Lady Hawke?" Magister Pavus stood up beside her, a proud smile on his face.

"Always." She glanced over the room again. Now that the fanatics had left with Danarius, it seemed the rest of them were looking to Ashley herself to address them. She gave a questioning look to Halward. Despite her issues with him—notably what he tried to do to Dorian—he seemed to be her only friend in this vulture's den.

There was a small chuckle in his voice when he responded to her quietly. "It seems that your adoring public awaits…"

She wanted to protest, but with all of their eyes on her it didn't seem to be the right time. Besides, her finishing this sham of a proceeding would go a long way to discrediting Danarius. It wasn't her goal necessarily, but it wouldn't hurt at this point.

She carefully concealed herself taking a deep breath before she addressed the room. "My fellow Magisters, in the notable absence of our very clearly distraught Viscount, I humbly accept the burden of judging the accused." Her eyes fell over the prisoners once again, each of them looked up at her with hope in their eyes. It struck a chord in her—the thought sparked that she could be the hope for the whole city, not just these poor souls. "Given the…erroneous nature of the evidence placed against you all, I hereby order your immediate release. You're free to go, all of you."

The guardsmen seemed completely uncomfortable by the order, but they obeyed reluctantly. The prisoners appeared to be in varying degrees of relief. The Altus praised her for her mercy, but the slaves and the commoner darted out of there like their feet were on fire. Not that Ashley blamed them, she could practically feel their fear from up here.

But the Dalish one…she did something curious. The girl couldn't have been any older than her younger siblings, now that Ashley had a good look at her. She rubbed at her wrists as she took cautious steps towards her. The guardsmen made a move to stop her but Ashley waived them off.

The Dalish girl smiled brightly up at her as she approached, making the other Magisters incredibly uncomfortable. As she climbed the numerous steps to her seat, she appeared to be muttering something. Ashley was unnerved by the behavior. For all she knew her kindness was about to be rewarded with an oversized fireball to the face. But she stood her ground, no need to make the others think she wasn't in complete control. Play the game, she reminded herself.

When the girl got close enough, she suddenly fell to her knees in front of her. "Ma serannas, Lethallan! Asha'bellanar told me of your mercy!"

Ashley smiled as cordially as she could manage. Mercy wasn't something she was known for lately, today excluded apparently. That name was familiar though, it answered a few questions. And gave her more than a few more. What does the witch want now? How much is it going to cost me this time? Haven't I paid my debt at this point? How and why exactly did Danarius get ahold of her? "There's no need for that. Please, stand and tell me your name."

The girl stood up quickly, brushing her knees off. "Oh! I'm sorry, that was rude! Unless…it's not rude to introduce yourself to a human, is it?"

Ashley's smile came a little easier this time. "Be calm, girl. You haven't offended me."

"Right, yes! Um, sorry…I'm Merrill! First of Clan Sabrae…I, um, came to the city for…well, Asha'bellanar sent me to give this to you…" She grasped the pendant around her neck with shaky hands and offered it to her. "She said you'd know what it meant."

Well, shit, she thought as she flipped the pendant around in the palm of her hand. She felt the weight of the dozens of pairs of eyes on her, watching her every move. So, she reacted accordingly, smiling cordially and nodding to Merrill. "Thank you kindly, Merrill. I'd like to apologize again for all of this. Perhaps you'd care to follow me back to my mansion? It'd be a shame not to properly reward you after all you have done."

"I…uh? Oh, um, I can do that…I think."

"Splendid, follow me, if you will." Ashley shot a short nod to Halward as she turned quickly towards the chamber's large doors. But she didn't take more than a couple of steps before another magister stepped in front of her.

"Wait! The meeting…? Are we…done?"

Ashley gave the man an exasperated look. She recognized his face but not his name—he probably wasn't important enough to remember, she decided. She looked back at the room behind her, only to find that many of the others seemed to have a similar concern on their minds. She simply shook her head at them. "Tell me, are we Magisters or Orleasian Lapdogs? Even a slave understands when they're dismissed from a room."

A wave of disgruntled murmurings rumbled throughout the room. More than a couple choice words were floated around. Ashley registered them numbly. She marveled briefly at just how much of herself she had lost now…she might have been on the verge of tears had this happened weeks ago. How much more could she lose before she's no longer herself at all? She squared her shoulders as she addressed the room again. She spoke with as much confidence and authority as she could muster. "If I offend you pampered shits so easily, then perhaps you shouldn't be crawling in my shadow."

As she turned to leave again, she was met with that nameless magister standing in her way again. He seemed positively pissed now. "You can't speak to us that way!"

"I just did." She deadpanned, her arms crossing in front of her. Behind her, she heard Merrill make a small, anxious noise. Ashley cocked her head to the side, noticing a pair of the Imperial Templars approaching from behind.

"You disrespect hundreds of years of tradition! I won't stand for it!" He motioned carelessly to the templars. "Take her away, at once!"

Merrill muttered a curse under her breath, she took a step closer to Ashley. "Mythal'enaste…"

There was a noticeable shift in the atmosphere as Ashley turned towards the Templars. When she lifted her face to them, her eyes were blood red. Merrill wasn't sure what color they were before but she was positive they weren't…that. It truly unnerved her, she was silently very, very grateful that she was on her side.

Ashley shot the templars a menacing glare. "I wouldn't do that."

The templars did not heed her warning. The moment the first one touched her arm, his eyes began to bleed. He stumbled backwards, vainly clutching at his face as he started to scream. The second templar dropped his sword at the sight and ran out of the chamber. The nameless magister tried to follow him, but he suddenly found himself locked in place.

A stunned hush fell over the room. No one made a move to help the poor man. In fact, it seemed that all they wanted was to keep themselves out of the conflict. So be it. So far as Ashley was concerned, they were all insignificant if they weren't going to further her new agenda.

"M-Magister, I…humbly beg—"

The bleeding templar suddenly dropped dead to the floor. His blood flowed from his corpse violently towards the Magister. The blood wrapped around his neck like a tendril, tightening as it lifted him from the ground. He made the most undignified sounds as he gasped and struggled.

Ashley stared at him coldly, only vaguely registering that she should be feeling something resembling remorse as she watched herself murder this man. With a sharp twist of her wrist, the blood tendril snapped the magister's neck like a twig. She released her magic carelessly, allowing the magister's lifeless body and the blood fall to the floor unceremoniously.

The room was so quiet that Ashley was nearly convinced that there was no one else around. But as she looked back, she was met with dozens of wide-eyed stares. Some were seemingly incredulous or frightened, but a token few seemed outright angry. Ones to watch out for, she thought; but that would be assuming they'd have the balls to come after her.

She couldn't help but notice that the look on her new friend's face was a mix between respect and terror. The girl was smart, she mused, perhaps she could be useful? Ashley brushed her hands off casually, allowing her eyes to recede back to normal once again. She gave Merrill a friendly smile as she gestured towards the door once again. "Shall we?"


	12. Flailings of a Mad Fool

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alistair finally gets time to talk to Solona...alone...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that the last few chapters have all been doom and gloom...this should be a nice break in between. Hope you enjoy!

Alistair grunted in pain as he carefully lowered Ayden to the dusty, old bed. It definitely wasn’t his first choice to allow the poor boy to sleep on but it seemed to be the best accommodation available. Rainier had directed them to take shelter in this abandoned hotel. Most of the place was in shambles, but the rooms on the upper floors were surprisingly intact. So long as a decent breeze came through the large balcony doors, it kept the musty smell away well enough. They must have been miles away from Lothering now. Alistair had never seen this part of Ferelden before...well, that really wasn't saying much to be honest. He'd never ventured outside the city up until now.

Maker, did his muscles hurt. It wasn’t like Ayden was particularly heavy but after the distance they’d walked he definitely felt like it now. He absently thought about Rainier, how the man had carried that other Warden woman all the way here. Alistair didn’t see him complaining. Maybe he should be working out more? Cullen was constantly complaining that the templars sit around too much…Well, doesn’t seem like that’s gonna be a problem for him now… _Maker, I hope he’s alive…_

A small wave of panic shot through him as Ayden shifted in his sleep. Alistair was certain he was going to wake up, but he simply rolled on to his side and curled into a ball. Something about it made him smile. Maybe it was the fact that he seemed totally oblivious to the world around him, how it was seemingly falling apart. As he dragged the cleanest blanket he could find over to him, Alistair found himself hoping that Ayden would never have to know what kind of danger they were in. 

He shot a look into the room across the hall. Solona seemed to be examining Fenris’s leg again. At least the man seemed much more relaxed by her treatment now. He actually looked grateful, he could have sworn that he even thanked her. Well, that’s a switch. 

She gave Fenris a friendly smile as she left him and Dorian in their room. Rainier had told them it wasn’t wise to close the doors, just in case ‘shit hit the fan’ as he put it. Alistair was sure there was some sort experienced logic in that, but it irked him a bit. He desperately wanted—no, needed to talk to Solona alone. And sure it was just her and Ayden in this room with him, but the things he needed to hear...well, they didn’t need to be heard by the kid too...Does that even make sense? He shook his head, trying to get his thoughts right. How could he hope to have a serious conversation with Solona if he couldn’t properly articulate the thoughts in his own bloody head?

His thoughts seemed to take over completely as he watched her come into their room. First thing she did was check on Ayden. She seemed happy as she looked him over, she gave Alistair a grateful smile. It was a small thing, but it damn near made him melt. Maker’s Breath was she just gorgeous, even in her disheveled state. He absently wondered if there’d ever be a day where she didn’t take his breath away. He seriously doubted that. She was way out of his league. He should just be grateful she decided he was worthy of her attention, even for a moment. 

“Alistair? Are you…alright?”

He looked away quickly when he realized what he was doing. _Yeah, good job. That wasn’t awkward at all. You bumbling idiot._ “What? Um, yes, of course. I’m fine. Perfectly fine. Finest there ever was…uh…”

Solona gave him an amused smile. “You were staring.”

“Right, yes. But, um, not at you, of course. That, um, would have been, um, awkward…” He felt the urge to do something, anything with his hands and found himself rubbing at the back of his neck.

She giggled as she shook her head at him. At least his idiocy was still endearing. With a measured breath, she schooled her expression into a more serious one. “Speaking of awkward…we need to talk…”

His thoughts ran rapidly through his head. He struggled to say something even remotely relevant. This is what he was hoping for, right? All you have to do is not be a bumbling idiot. “Uh, yes, of course…but, um, here…?”

“No,” She absently glanced at Ayden, “I don’t want to risk him waking up…and to be honest, he shouldn’t hear this conversation.”

_Well that doesn’t sound good. Maker’s Balls…_

“…I asked Dorian to watch Ayden for us.”

“Wait, what? Dorian?” Alistair lowered his voice to a whisper. “You trust him that much?”

Solona huffed a laugh, not bothering to keep her voice down. “He seems a decent enough man. Besides, Fenris will keep him in check now that he’s fully healed.” From across the hall, they heard Dorian’s mumbled voice grumbling. “I have every confidence he’ll be in good hands.”

"Uh...right...I mean, um, if you're sure? We should...um, go?"

"Come on, I think I know a spot." She shot him a reassuring smile as she glided out of the room. "There's a hotel just like this in Denerim, I'm willing to bet it used to have conference rooms too."

Alistair damn near tripped over himself when he tried to follow her. _Could you possibly be normal for one bloody moment?_ He corrected himself as quickly as he could, thankfully before Solona noticed. She beckoned him down the hallway, but they both seemed to realize at the same moment that the lights weren't working passed a certain point down there. 

Solona took a calming breath as she conjured a small, bright wisp. It floated idly above them, illuminating their immediate surroundings. Alistair was rather shocked he hadn't reacted badly to seeing her use magic this time. The first time was a shock, to put it lightly--pun intended, probably. But now...it just seemed so harmless. He suddenly felt like he'd been fed a bowl full of lies for every damned day he'd been in the Templar Order. If Solona was a mage, then they can't all be evil...right?

He forced his mind to snap back to reality as she stopped in front of a set of double doors. She reached for the dusty old handle slowly, as if she were just waiting for something to pop out at them. 

Alistair grasped her forearm gently. He had intended for it to be comforting but when her eyes snapped up to him, he got all twisted up again. "I-I didn't mean--I just thought that maybe I should go in first...you know, just in case?"

Her expression softened considerably, she even smiled at him as she stepped back. 

_Whew. Okay. This is it, Alistair. Moment of truth. Time to look brave and heroic and epic. You're not scared of a creepy, old door leading to a definitely pitch dark room that may or may not contain some manner of giant slobbering monster...okay, wait, maybe a little...fuck it, just stop thinking._ He grabbed the door handle and swung it open quickly before he could lose his nerve. 

He managed to take exactly one step inside the room before he was suddenly under attack! It was still fairly dark but he was certain this thing was enormous. It had tentacles everywhere! It came from all sides!

"Alistair..."

He desperately flailed about, just barely managing to draw his sword. Without proper light to coordinate his heroic attacks, he was only able to swing blindly with high hopes of felling the foul beast. 

"Alistair!"

In a brief but overwhelmingly terrifying moment, he saw Solona drawing closer to the monster. Of course she would try to help him. She was too good, too selfless. But Maker damn him, he would save her!

"No!" He cried out, vainly hoping beyond hope that she would listen to reason. "Stay back, my love!"

His surroundings were quickly illuminated when Solona brought her trusty wisp closer. He was now able to stare into the face of the dreaded beast. It was none other than...

"They're just old wires..." Solona gripped his sword arm firmly and guided it back down to his side. Her cheeks were definitely flushed, she seemed as though she were trying hard not to look at him now. 

The realization of his absolute idiocy hit him like a metric fuck ton of bricks. He was positive beyond all doubt that this was in fact, the stupidest thing he had ever done...It was only compounded by the cackling he heard coming from down the hall. Maker's Breath, he was never going to hear the end of it. And he didn't...say what he thought he had...did he?

If Solona's obviously altered reaction to him was any indication, then yes. He had definitely made a total fool out of himself. In more ways than one...and something told him it wasn't even over yet.

"Maker, I'm so sorry! This is--I mean, that wasn't--well, I just thought that..." He flopped himself into the nearest chair. Dust flew around him everywhere, but he was beyond caring at the moment. He rested his elbows on his knees, using his posture to help him hide his face in his hands. "Kill me now."

There was a definite laughter in her voice as she spoke now. He didn't dare look up at her again, but judging by the sound she was sitting somewhere near him. "That was...brave."

"That was the mad flailings of a fool."

"Well, yes." She broke down in a small fit of giggles. "I'm certainly not going to get that image out of my head for a long while."

Alistair groaned as if he were actually feeling physical pain. "I'd rather you remember that than...that, um, other thing..."

"What other...? Oh, you mean what you said?"

"Nope, nope. I said nothing. Just chalk it up to me screaming indiscriminately like a little girl." His whole body stiffened up as he felt Solona's fingers wrap around his wrists and pull his hands away from his face. This is it. She needs to know you understand her as she rips your damned heart out. Nothing less than you deserve after that display, you insufferable moron.

She kept her eyes locked on his face as she laced their fingers together. "I didn't mind it..."

No way he just heard that right...but there she was, Just sitting there smiling at him. "You...what?"

Solona looked down for a moment, but seemed to force herself to bring her gaze back up to him. Her expression hardened a bit. Alistair was familiar with that behavior though. It was kind of a defense mechanism for her. She was preparing to get hurt. But Maker, why? Why would she ever think that he would hurt her? "If you meant it, that is."

Alistair felt his hands tighten their grip on her unconsciously. A thousand thoughts flew right into his head all at once again. But this time he stomped them back into place. There was no damn room to mess this up any further. He dragged a small bit of confidence from some dark corner of his mind. With a small breath, he squeezed her hands and looked into her eyes. "Look, I don't know what happened after you left Lothering, or what your life is like now...but I need you to know that I never stopped loving you."

Her jaw dropped open slightly, her eyes welled with tears. As if the roles had suddenly reversed, she began rambling a bit. "I came back to find you. Andraste preserve me, I should have done this sooner. I should have come back right when I knew. I just...please understand, this was not the way I wanted this to happen. "

"Slow down, love, what are you talking about?"

She was damn near shaking now. It was by far the most unnerving thing Alistair had ever witnessed. Solona was always so confident, self-assured, strong. To see her like this...Maker, what could do that?

"I haven't been with anyone since you."

Alistair couldn't help but smile at that. Somehow it seemed equal parts endearing and complimentary to him. She hadn't found anyone to replace him. And Maker knows a woman like her would have all the options she could ask for. But...something didn't add up...He adopted a lighthearted tone, hoping to set her at ease. "Not to sound like I'm judging your life choices or anything but, Ayden's father doesn't count?"

She repeated herself slower this time, keeping her gaze locked on him to watch the moment his reaction showed. "I haven't been with anyone since you..."

He huffed a nervous laugh. "But, uh...wouldn't that mean...?"

"He's yours." There went that practiced stone face again. She couldn't seem to remove the emotion from her eyes this time though. She was very clearly on the verge of tears. "Ayden is your son."


	13. Hard Truths and Frightful Sights

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While watching over Ayden, Dorian and Fenris have a difficult conversation, leading them both to make drastic decisions.

"Fasta Vass." Fenris growled as he sulked back into the room. He flopped his weight down carelessly on the spare bed, making it creak ominously. He shot a glare at Dorian. The man was still snickering from that...display they'd just witnessed. If that was what these southern templars were made of, he couldn't fathom why the magisters would ever fear them.

Dorian poked his head out the door, hoping to see the aftermath of Alistair's epic show of embarrassment. But alas, he was met with disappointment. They seemed to have had the sense to retreat into whatever room they commandeered and they were much too far to hear anything of their conversation. He hovered over Ayden for a brief moment, just to make sure he was still sleeping soundly. The boy had the apparent ability to snooze through shrill screams. Dorian envied that a bit. Ah, what he wouldn't give for a proper night's sleep. "Oh, come now. At least it was entertaining."

"Annoying, you mean."

"Everything annoys you."

"Including you."

"Oh, you wound me!" Dorian could have practically predicted the precise moment Fenris would roll his eyes. It dawned on him that they had spent entirely too much time together. It seemed Fenris had a similar thought, judging by the glare he shot him. "Oh do try to lighten up. Your brooding isn't helping anyone."

Fenris stretched himself out on the bed, allowing his eyes to rest for only a moment. There was no telling when they'd be able to enjoy this kind of comfort again. "My mood suits me just fine."

"Well, your mood annoys _me_."

"My sincerest apologies. I shall endeavor to exist with less offense."

Dorian shot him a skeptical look. "What? Really?"

"No." Fenris deadpanned, not even bothering to look at him.

"Ah, of course not. Maker forbid you'd even try to be personable."

"I wasn't aware we were here to make friends."

It was Dorian that rolled his eyes now. "We're not making friends. We're surviving. By any means necessary." He grew a smug look as Fenris turned his scowling face towards him again. "Isn't that right, my friend?"

Fenris didn't appreciate having his own words thrown back at him. Especially seeing as how he wasn't exactly proud to have said them in the first place. Fighting for survival had led them to do some terrible things. He wasn't eager to remember or admit it. He thought briefly about how he may have to tell Ashley about it...if he ever got to see her again...

His scowl further deepened as he turned his attention back to Dorian. "I hardly think signing yourself to the Wardens was necessary to survive."

Dorian huffed a laugh. "Yes, because the city was in such a state of normalcy. We should have just simply walked on through the gates. Maybe even have taken the scenic route! But oh, that's right-it was overrun with darkspawn, wasn't it? Such a miracle that we managed to avoid it all. It was almost as if we partnered with someone uniquely skilled enough to allow us to avoid the worst of it."

"Your sarcasm does you no credit."

"Ha! You sound like my father. Tell me, do you plan to berate me for my life choices next, hmm? Perhaps you have a secret blood magic ritual in the works?"

That touched a nerve. Fenris shot upright, swinging his legs around the edge of the bed to face Dorian. "How can you be so bloody flippant?! Don't you understand what you've done?"

"Oh, come now, don't start acting like you care. I might get the wrong idea."

"Fenhedis!" He stood up, pacing around the room like a caged animal. "What am I supposed to tell Ashley when you die, hmm?"

Dorian waved off his concern. "Don't be so dramatic."

"Dramatic?! If that damned ritual doesn't kill you, what makes you think you'll even survive long after?"

"Oh, please. Killing darkspawn isn't nearly as dangerous as attending one of Danarius's parties."

Fenris shook his head at him disapprovingly. "I should have known."

"Known what exactly? It's so hard to keep up with your particular brand of crazy."

There was a fire behind Fenris's expression now. For a moment, Dorian was scared he was going to hit him. "After all that we went through...you're giving up, aren't you?"

Dorian scoffed. "Well, it's not like I have much waiting for me back home. I managed to get your sorry ass back over the wall in one piece. As far as I'm concerned, that's all I promised Ashley to do."

"You fucking coward!"

Dorian shrugged. "I prefer the term: practically logical."

Fenris stared him down for a long, tense moment. His rage seemed ready to boil over. "I won't sit here and watch this."

"Then don't."

"You can't be serious."

"Why? It's not like I need you now. I have plenty of muscle around here." Dorian turned towards the open balcony doors, leaning against the door frame casually. "By all means, run on back to your beloved. Do give her my regards."

He heard Fenris's footsteps come close behind him. It took a good amount of willpower not to look back, to keep this up. Just a little more and it would be over. His plan would work. He didn't have to hold out long, however. It was only a couple of short moments before he heard Fenris stomp away from him. Dorian took a deep, calming breath when he was sure he was finally gone.

Maker forgive him, but he had to do it. The stupid bastard would have stayed with him until the end. They bitched and griped but Dorian knew Fenris had grown to respect him. They'd be dead if it weren't for each other. He knew Fenris wouldn't have been able to leave him behind. Much as he'd hate to admit it, he was his friend now. The half-elf certainly had more than his share of infuriating qualities, but he had his finer ones too. He was a loyal friend and a steadfast ally. He wasn't going to leave until he felt unwanted. It was better this way, at least that's what Dorian was trying to tell himself. He'd go straight for Kirkwall now. It'd be only a matter of days before he was happily spending his nights with Ashley once again. He said a silent prayer, hoping that the Maker would watch over his friends.

He snapped back to attention when he just barely heard quiet footfalls. Dorian forced himself back into the facade he'd have to maintain. "What? Did I not make myself clear?"

Before he turned to look behind him, he caught sight of something that made his blood run cold. Fenris was already on the ground, a good distance away from the building. He was walking briskly into the forest...if it wasn't Fenris behind him...?

Dorian flipped around instantly, a fireball already forming in his hand. At first he didn't see anything out of the ordinary. But something wasn't right. The room felt threatening now. He tried to tell himself it was just him losing his mind but somehow he just knew that wasn't the case. He kept his eyes scanning the room as he crept towards Ayden.

He nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard Rainier suddenly yelling from the adjacent room. "Shrieks! Everyone on your feet, now!"

Dorian took his eyes off of Ayden for the shortest of moments. When he looked back, he found one of those blighted creatures looming over the boy. Dorian launched the fireball in his hand at the Shriek, his panic forcing him to make it as powerful as he could manage. The Shriek cried out as the spell collided with it. In the next moment, it was suddenly reduced to a pile of ash.

Ayden awoke with a start. He let out a frightful scream as he shot upright. He frantically brushed the ash off of his chest.

Dorian rushed over to him, grasping him by the shoulders firmly. The poor boy was shaking like a leaf but at least he was safe, right? "It's alright, I've got you."

The boy kept screaming, but now he was pointing at something behind Dorian. Before the mage could react, Alistair burst through the doorway. He roared as he cleaved the monster in half. Solona wasn't far behind him. She shot right over to Ayden, snatching him up in a tight grip.

Alistair sighed with relief and gave Dorian a grateful look. But the sounds of scuffling in the hallway quickly drew their attention. Before either of them could get out there to help, Rainier appeared in the doorway. His expression was as grave and serious as it ever was. He scanned the room quickly before addressing Dorian. "Where's your man?"

Dorian huffed a laugh. This was hardly the time to correct the Warden's assumptions, unfortunately. So instead, he settled for a response laced with sarcasm. "We broke up."

Rainier rolled his eyes as he motioned for them to follow. "We're leaving, now. If the shrieks found us, the rest will be here soon."

The hallway was almost completely coated with ice. Frosty spikes secured half a dozen shrieks to the walls. Salem strolled up to Rainier with a curt nod, her whole posture read like someone who was still ready to attack at a moment's notice. "It's done, Commander."

Rainier looked over the scene behind her with wide eyes. "Maker's Balls, woman..." He shook the unnecessary thoughts out of his head, snapping himself back into being the leader once again. "Salem, take the rear guard. Templar, you're in front of her. Pavus is behind me, Amell is behind Pavus." He snapped his head at each of them, directing them until they were in their spots. "Do not lose sight of each other. Do not run unless I bloody tell you to. When shit hits the fan, we protect Amell and the boy above all else."

He looked back for only a short moment to address Solona. His voice was still commanding but his tone seemed sympathetic. "You keep a hold on him until I say so, you hear? Don't let go of him for a moment."

Solona nodded once to him before hauling Ayden into her arms. She directed him to fold his limbs around her and she tightened her grip around him. Alistair wrapped his shield arm around them momentarily, giving them both a quick kiss to their foreheads. "We'll make it, I promise." He cringed at Ayden's bewildered reaction, but Rainier snapped him out the spiraling thoughts in his head.

"Let's move." Rainier waited until Alistair returned to his spot before moving. "Keep to formation until we hit the highway. We're not stopping again until we reach Denerim."


	14. The Darkness before the Dawn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen has to face his demons, all while another threat draws closer.

The cool water soothed Cullen's burnt hand as he submerged it beneath the surface of the river. He let out an exasperated groan, saying a silent prayer to the Maker for small miracles. Normally the water brought him no comfort. He was much more prone to seasickness than most. But thankfully the water seemed to be calm at the moment.

It was hours since most of the refugees had turned in for the night. He probably should have been resting too, but the quiet suited him well. He mused for a small moment about the fact that he was outside in the dark alone, with nothing but the moon to light his way. 5 year old him would have been terrified.

_You always were a cowardly little boy. You just pretend to be brave when others are depending on you. But you're just weak. No matter how hard you try, your efforts will always be in vain. You let everyone down. You let everyone die._

He flexed his hand slowly beneath the water. _Still painful_ , he thought to himself, _good_.

Cullen needed the pain as far as he was concerned. It kept everything real, in perspective. The things that mattered were painful...the right things...did he even manage that? Rylen wanted to die. He did him a favor. He even said so himself before...but was it right? _You don't feel guilty about what's right_.

His mother had told him that once...his mother...who was likely ripped apart by those _monsters_. She didn't deserve that. It should have been him staying behind to hold the line. He should have done more...

He clearly hadn't heard Barris's footsteps crunching along the rocky bank. Not wanting to elicit an adverse reaction, Barris cleared his throat as he approached his friend slowly. But despite his efforts, He still seemed startled.

Cullen stood up quickly, wincing as pain shot through his hand again. He allowed himself to cradle it when he recognized Barris. There was no need for a facade with him. He could trust him, he always could. And given all that has happened...he might be his only friend left. But there was a bitterness inside him that took over. He wasn't even sure why. Barris didn't deserve it in the least, but it was there. And maker damn him, he couldn't control it.

 _He meant to spy on you, to find you in a vulnerable moment. Even your last remaining friend doesn't trust you. Even he thinks you're weak._ He sneered as he looked over him. "Spy work was never your strong suit, Barris."

Confusion crossed Barris's face for a moment, but he shook it away quickly. "Spies typically don't announce their presence. Friends do."

Cullen scoffed. "Alistair never did. The man would just be sitting on my couch some days, playing that damnable medieval game that painted Templars as awkward, bumbling idiots."

Barris snickered initially but schooled his reaction back down again, knowing Cullen didn't mean to sound humorous. "Sure, completely inaccurate until there's a pretty face right in front of you."

"Don't get me started." Cullen slumped back down upon the riverbank carelessly, dropping his hand back into the water unceremoniously. "Another thing to regret."

"You're talking about Ashley?"

 _She loved you and you failed her too. Pathetic._ Cullen's dark gaze shot up to Barris instantly. He said nothing but the look in his eyes read like a warning.

Barris wouldn't be deterred though. He couldn't sit there and let his friend plummet into the abyss. He steeled himself as he pressed further. "You can hardly blame yourself for that."

"Can't I?"

"You didn't have a choice."

 _Didn't you? He's trying to weaken you more, you can't let go of your guilt._ "All I had was choice!"

"Fine, then. Did you choose wrong?"

"You saw what happened! Of course I did!" _She hates you now, all that love and light died when you betrayed her._

"Then you'd have let your family starve, is that it? That would have been better?"

"I could have...I should have..." Cullen's fists clenched, sending pain through his injured hand again. His posture slumped defeatedly. _There was always something else you could have done. There was always something else you missed. And you missed it because you were weak._

The small shaking in his torso told Barris he was in tears. He knelt down next to him, putting a hand on his shoulder. "Meredith acted dishonorably from start to finish with that, and you know it. She shouldn't have put you in that position. She knew your family was desperate for money, so she had you make that choice. And there was no right answer."

"That doesn't make it better."

"It doesn't. But it doesn't mean you should carry the burden of it either."

"What else can I do? Everything I do is wrong. Every decision I make is wrong. All I can do is lament until the Maker sees fit to end my miserable life. Andraste knows I deserve it." _You may as well just drown yourself in the river now. You know you can't swim. Just another thing you've failed at, hmm? Might as well just end it now..._

"Your mother would be spitting hot coals if she heard this."

That snapped him out of his thoughts for a brief moment. But it was only replaced with overwhelming sadness. The image of her face...crying in her last moment with him...she must have been so disappointed... "It should have been me!"

"And then what? Should she have just stood by and let her son die? How would you have expected her to live the rest of her life then, hmm? She'd be living with the guilt. Knowing that she'd out lived a child and that she could have done something about it."

Tears rolled down his face in waves once again. He covered his eyes with his hands, despite the pain it brought. "I wasn't worthy of her sacrifice..."

Barris shook his head, a serious expression crossing his face as he eyed him. "Mary-Ann Rutherford was never wrong."

Cullen huffed a laugh, despite himself. He could practically see her saying that...it was a silly thing of course, just something meant to make her children feel better. But there was some sort of truth to it. No advice from her had ever led him astray. She led a seemingly perfect life, she'd never done anything wrong. It was only when he began focusing on that small, good memory of her that he was clearly able to recall her last words to him. She didn't regret him, she loved him. More than that, she was proud of him. The realization hit him like an ogre. He was crying in earnest now. It felt like he had to. Every tear that fell was another bad piece of him that he could be rid of. It wasn't enough, of course. There were still dark places in his mind that were calling to him like a siren's song. But for now things were clearer, he could sort them out on his own now...eventually...hopefully...

He looked back up at Barris. He owed the man a drink at the very least, maybe some sort of bribe to ensure he doesn't tell anyone else what he saw here. He gave him a nod and a small, grateful smile. It seemed that his friend understood that completely. It was comforting to know that he had someone he didn't need words to fully communicate with.

His attention suddenly snapped to another voice somewhere behind him. They sounded like a young man, maybe a boy even. No one he recognized at the very least. But the strange thing was he couldn't see him. When he turned towards the voice he was met with nothing but the familar forest surroundings. Before he could call out to it, the voice responded to him.

"I'm here, but not here. It's difficult. You won't understand. Too much magic, too many knots."

Cullen's eyes darted around in every direction, desparately trying to find the source of the voice. Barris was looking at him as if he'd suddenly gone completely mad. _Can he not hear this? What in the Maker's name does that mean? Is this another bloody demon?!_

"I don't mean to scare you. I want to help. Well, you do the helping. I just talk. For now, at least. Maybe forever."

Cullen got to his feet quickly, searching behind every nearby tree.

"You need to hear this: there are bad people coming. They're all red inside. They want to hurt. You, mostly. But Barris and Rylen, too. They know too much. You know too much. They can't chance making you red, you have to be dead."

"What?!" Cullen began shouting towards the treetops. In a fleeting moment, he could have sworn he spotted a pair of eyes looking down upon him, a shadowy figure that appeared to be wearing a large hat. "What are you talking about?"

"You have a lot of knots, too many too count. And too many to untie right now. You need to help. That's what you do. You're strong, you're meant to do the helping. Your mother wants you to know that. She wants to tell you herself but she can't do it while you're awake. Your father wants to...stick a boot where the sun don't shine? But the sun shines everywhere, unless it's night? You want to put a boot in the night? Now you're the one not making sense."

"She...they...what...? Who are you?"

The figure seemed to flinch as it glanced in the direction of the camp. "You need to go, now. Do the helping. Cassandra can't hold out forever. They all need you."

Cullen blinked and suddenly the figure had vanished. He was frozen in place for a moment, trying to figure out what in the void just happened to him. But Barris's voice pulled him out of it.

"The scouts are reporting an ambush! Let's move!"

Barris took off before Cullen had even understood what he had told him. So many damn questions, and far too many personal mood swings for his liking. That...voice...that was talking to him was one thing, but Barris would sooner cut his sword arm off than lie to him. He re-dressed his injured hand as best as he could and charged after Barris.

The closer he got to the camp, the more he came to realize the serious nature of their situation. Barely any of the templars were left as it was. And these bloody bandits were cutting right through them. Wait...no...those aren't bandits...that can't be...was that templar armor? What in the Maker's name were those red things? That couldn't be crystallized lyrium? Andraste preserve them all...


	15. Though All before Me is Shadow...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen deals with the ambush, while Fenris gets some...help from a...friend?

Logical nuances would have to wait. Whatever that red substance was, it wasn't important. The fact of the matter was that whoever they were, they were attacking his people. His family was still here and Maker damn him, he was going to put a stop to it. He scanned the make-shift battlefield, quickly assessing a strategy. Barris seemed to be protecting the civilians well enough for the moment. Cassandra had apparently appointed herself to hold the line at the northern entrance. There was a notable gap in the southern entrance's defenses. That's where he was needed.

He launched himself into his personal tent as quickly as he could manage. He found his weapons within seconds, silently praising himself for the part of Templar's training that drilled organization into them. He glanced over at his armor stacked neatly in the corner. There was no time for that. He'd simply have to make do without it. He was ready to face this threat with confidence, but the moment he lowered his shield it slipped from his grip.

He nearly howled in frustration. It seemed his fingers weren't healed enough to keep a hold of the heavy thing. He angrily shucked the thing into the corner where his armor was. If he had time, he might have fastened the damnable thing to his arm. But every second he spent fumbling about was one that he could have been out there helping with.

Fighting with only a sword in hand was difficult for him. It took a couple of close calls to remind himself that he didn't have a piece of metal to hide behind. But he was a Templar, damnit. A Knight-Commander even. He'd trained for battle countless times over. He'd see this through even if it killed him. And he didn't need a damn shield to do it. Isn't that what faith is for, anyway. Maker, I truly hope you're listening now.

He was deliberate and methodical in his movements. He couldn't afford a single misstep. Without armor or a shield, it could very easily mean his death. Just stop thinking, he told himself, Let the Maker guide your sword.

That strategy worked well for a little while. He'd managed to escape suffering any serious damage until now. But when he spotted Meredith charging at him...he knew all of that was about to change.

She was crazed, completely mad. The woman was never the bastion of sanity to begin with but, Maker, she'd never have done something like this...would she? It's that red substance, he decided. She was nearly covered with it. There were even small crystals in bedded into her skin, which seemed to be affecting the veins below them. Even her voice was altered. She sounded like a bloody demon. He wasn't certain if that was his own fear taking hold or the actual reality of the situation.

But he absolutely could not let her win. Not with everything that was at stake here. He tightened his grip on his battered bastard sword, and went to meet his new enemy head on.

****

Fenris absently kicked yet another rock into the river. He wasn't even counting them anymore. He wasn't even sure why exactly he felt the need to do it. It just felt like the only thing that was keeping him relatively sane by now.

He silently cursed himself for how weak he was. When he was younger it never bothered him if he went days without talking to anyone. In fact, isolation used to be a solace. If there was no one else around then all that meant was that there was no one to abuse him in some manner. He hated every single moment of his upbringing with a vengeance, but he couldn't help but lament him losing that one small part of it now.

It had been only a couple of hours since his spat with Dorian. But already he missed the bloody bastard. He wondered for a moment if he'd been foolish in trusting him, in forming a bond of friendship. He wanted to believe his friend wouldn't turn out like the rest. Those weeks spent constantly fighting for their lives had meant something, right?

No, he decided harshly as he recalled Dorian's last words to him in painful detail. All Dorian saw was a tool. A bit of muscle to help him survive a fight. But now he wasn't needed and thrown away again. Fenris couldn't help but be hurt by the notion. But the disappointment he felt was even worse. He put his trust in someone that turned out to be such a damned coward. And he was so sure he'd gotten to know the real Dorian too. Magisters, he thought bitterly, you can never trust them.

His next immediate thoughts were to curse his name, to wish for the worst for him...but did he really want that? Did he really mean that? Should he mean that?

"No, that's not who you are."

The voice startled him right out of his thoughts. His reaction unfortunately led to him dousing his 'good' boot into the river, completely soaking it. Fenris growled at that more than anything. He clenched his fists, readying himself for a fight. He silently wished he had his damned greatsword back...Just get back to Ash and you'll have everything back.

"Not everything, no. But it's a start. A good one."

Fenris whipped his head around in ever direction, but there was no sign of anyone else in area. A sort of realization suddenly dawned on him. Something he chastised Ashley for regularly...she never looked up. When he did just that, he was met with a frightening sight. There was a figure perched in the branches of the tree next to him, totally cloaked in shadow. Only it's silhouette was visible, well, that and it's glowing eyes. There was something completely unnatural about the figure but it...didn't feel threatening? Was that some kind of trick?

"I don't do tricks, I help. Well, except the juggling I guess...but usually only the little ones like that. Would you feel better if I started juggling?"

It's a bloody demon. But assessing the entity for a moment yielded a different conclusion. "A spirit, aren't you?"

"You didn't say demon. I appreciate that. I know the distinction is hard. It will get better."

Fenris folded his arms as he looked up at the spirit. Whatever this thing wanted, it wasn't going to stop him. He knew what he wanted-no, what he had to do. He wouldn't entertain any more delays. "State your business and be quick about it. I've a long way to go yet."

"I know, but you need to wait-"

"No."

"Just for a moment-"

"No!"

"But someone needs your help!"

Fenris huffed an angry laugh as he began to trudge down the riverbank once again. "Goodbye spirit."

"What would Ashley think?"

He whipped back around towards the spirit, ready to punch a hole in it's face. "Don't you dare."

"She's good, too good, even. Always helping, always caring. The light to my darkness..."

"Out of my head, spirit." Fenris set a warning gaze upon it, readying himself to climb up into that tree and tear it down-if that were even possible.

"If she were here she'd help. And she'd want to know that you did the helping. She'd be happy."

Fenris sneered. "You're manipulating me."

"Yes."

He scoffed, rolling his eyes. "And you even admit it."

"I don't like lying. This is important. Ashley needs you. She loses more of that light every day you're gone. But she couldn't live with herself if you lost your humanity, too."

His anger was damn near overwhelming. All he wanted to do was strangle this thing...but it was right. There wasn't even much to argue about it. Fenris could already see her face...the tears in her eyes when she hears about what he's done...not just here, even. Outside the wall, it was worse...

Fenris shook the spiraling thoughts away for the moment. He eyed the spirit angrily once again. "Where?"

"You're close now, but still to far. Keep following the river and you'll find them. But you need to hurry. He could die soon, and that can't happen."

"Of course not." Fenris shook his head as he started walking quickly.

The spirit wasn't pleased with that, evidently. It appeared next to him suddenly. "You have to run!"

"Ah! Fenhedis!" Fenris growled at the thing once his initial fright had passed. He had a mind to tear into it, but if running could get it to shut up, then fine. He took a few cautious strides at first, still a little nervous about Solona's handiwork. But it held just fine, the leg felt strong even. It empowered him in an odd way. The only physically broken piece of him was mended and stronger for it.

His cautious jog turned into an all out sprint quickly. The rocks crunching beneath his soggy boots was an almost calming sound, the wind whipping by his face felt soothing somehow. It allowed him to focus his mind on his goal. He would be home soon. He'd be with Ashley again soon. And if doing this one thing would bring a smile to her face, then he'd fight the Maker himself to see it done.


	16. Yet Shall the Maker be my Guide

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen makes a startling discovery when he sets out to confront the leader of the ambush...

Meredith was unrelenting in her attacks. After she spotted Cullen, she seemed to become both encouraged and enraged. She cackled manically as she swung her greatsword with speed, power and precision. Cullen was completely baffled by it. She was totally outplaying him at every move. He'd only just barely managed to dodge her attacks. He wasn't even convinced that he'd hit her yet. All he could think to do was lead her away from the rest of the camp.

She'd chased him to an isolated area now. It seemed to be an extension of the clearing they'd made camp in. But with the deep water of the lake at his back, he knew he was running out of room fast. It gave him plenty of room to maneuver around her though. The only structure around was this rickety, decrepit dock. Seemingly abandoned long ago with almost everything else that wasn't within the borders of the settlements.

He put everything he had left into the fight, but the aching fatigue in his bones told him that he couldn't keep this up for much longer. He knew he couldn't give up, not with the safety of the refugees depending on this. He hoped beyond hope that Barris and Cassandra were handling things better than he was at the moment.

"Meredith!" A draft of wind swooshed ominously passed his face as he narrowly dodged yet another attack. "Stop this madness at once!"

"You will not command me!" She slammed her greatsword down into the ground. This time it seemed she hadn't intended to hit him at all. Though, judging by the purely wicked grin on her face, she wouldn't have minded it. When the sword collided with the grass, numerous spikes of red lyrium erupted from the ground.

Cullen was lucky enough not to get impaled by one, but the force knocked him backwards. He scrambled to his feet again, as quickly as he could manage in his state. He got his bearings again in time to see Meredith stalking towards him.

The red lyrium had seemingly affected her from the inside out. When she spoke, small wisps of corrupted air spewed from her mouth. Her eyes were bloodshot but glowing with the same red tint that had taken over much of her body now. It was only then that Cullen realized that this was not Meredith any longer.

He couldn't claim some expert knowledge over this red lyrium or over what in the void was happening to his men. But he knew one thing: they behaved like abominations. Sentient, but crazed abominations. It was a chilling feeling to learn that he had reason to fear more than just magic and darkspawn now.

"No one will command me now! There is no will but mine! There is no Divine but me!"

Cullen gripped his bastard sword with both hands now. He backed away from her carefully. He wasn't sure how he was going to defeat her on his own but the very least he could do was keep her distracted. She seemed fixated on him for the moment, perhaps he could provoke that.

"Do you even hear yourself? You've faithfully served the Divine, the Chantry, and the people of Ferelden for years!"

Meredith seemed to take exception to that. She sneered as she raised her sword again. "Longer than you've been alive, boy!"

He jumped backwards just a little too slowly this time. The very tip of the sword managed to scrape across his stomach. His undershirt was torn from the impact, revealing the superficial wound. It was the knowledge that he couldn't hide his wounds that affected him more than the damage he suffered. It distracted him just long enough for Meredith to lunge at him once again. He was too slow to properly defend himself. He weakly blocked the first blow, but Meredith quickly countered by smashing the pummel of her greatsword into his head.

Cullen fell to the ground, completely disoriented. He only faintly registered his sword rolling out of his grasp. The world seemed to be spinning rapidly but he tried to get to his feet again. He couldn't...let her win...he had to...stand...

Meredith snatched Cullen up by the collar of his torn undershirt. With her free arm, she lifted him as high as she could reach. "Pathetic. You should have stayed a poor little farm boy. You were always a worthless, mindless little chantry rat. Too blind to see the truth of things. The templars will embrace a new dawn. We will paint the heavens red! If the chantry will do nothing to stop these blood mages, then the Divine Commander shall rise and bring forth righteous justice!"

Cullen huffed a tired laugh. He wasn't sure where that came from, but it seemed he couldn't help it at the moment. "Is that what you're calling yourself now?"

Her eyes seemed to flare with pure rage. "No one can question me! My Commandments are DIVINE!"

Another grovely voice came from somewhere behind Meredith suddenly, "Command this."

Before Meredith could turn towards them, she let out an unnatural screech in pain. Cullen blinked quickly to clear his blurry vision for a moment. He managed to catch the last moment of his sword being stabbed right through Meredith's chestplate.

Meredith turned her attention back to Cullen only to throw him into a nearby tree. He heard the crack more than felt it at the time. But slowly the pain in his shoulder reinforced the fact that he'd been injured once again. He anxiously wondered if he'd ever have use of his shield arm again.

He tried hard to focus on the events unfolding in front of him. He was absolutely certain that he'd never seen this man before. But seeing as how he was clearly in a better state to fight than Cullen himself was, he decided to ignore that for the moment.

His dark clothing was worn and tattered, but they must have been of a fine make originally. There was still bits of evidence of expensive embroidery, and his armor pieces seemed custom fitted. He emitted this blue glow that seemed like some kind of magic. Cullen almost had mistaken him for another 'helpful' spirit.

The man tossed Cullen's sword between both hands like it was some kind of toy. The commander in him had a mind to scold him. But Cullen quickly came to the realization of what he was doing. Testing the weight, getting a feel for the weapon. It put Cullen at ease knowing that the man obviously had some sense of formal training.

When Meredith charged at him, he was more than ready. His stance was a little clunky at first, but he seemed to adapt his rhythm quickly. The man was easily much faster than Meredith had expected. At every turn she seemed to underestimate him. "What manner of foul magic is this?!"

He danced around her, hitting her with multiple attacks before she could counter it. He only made a single misstep. He stumbled over another set of red lyrium spikes she conjured. The man hesitated for a moment, seemingly distracted by them. Cullen could have sworn he saw the man recoil from them, like he was frightened or perhaps simply unnerved by it.

Meredith stalked towards him slowly. Her armor was in pieces now, blood dripped from every wound but she still kept moving somehow. "Repent, mage! All will serve the Divine Commander!"

As Meredith drew closer, the man's blue aura glowed brighter. He was even faster now, even more powerful. He deftly dodged every swing, kept advancing on her at every turn. He pushed her back step by step until she was perched at the very edge of that old, rickety dock.

Cullen leaned heavily against the tree as he shuffled to his feet. He couldn't believe what he was seeing. He watched as the man charged through Meredith's sword, kicked her squarely in the chest, and sent her plummeting into the dark lake's waters. The man stood there watching the water intently, as if he didn't believe it was over. He kept a keen gaze over the water even after it had stilled once again.

Cullen approached him slowly. "It's over. She can't swim with all that armor."

The man huffed a laugh. "Somehow I have my doubts."

"Perhaps that's wise..." Cullen took a moment to get a better look at him. His chestplate had a crest depicting some kind of bird on it. It was definitely not Ferelden. Part of the Templar's schooling was devoted to learning the noble houses in preparation for their inevitable interactions with them.

The man turned his back to the water finally. He gave Cullen a quick, acknowledging glance, but seemed much more interested in the red spikes still stuck in the grass. "What is this?"

"What?"

The man rolled his green eyes, clearly not caring if Cullen noticed or not. "Are you blind as well as a fool? The...whatever this is."

Cullen bristled at the man's tone but ultimately decided to pick his battles given the circumstance. "I've never seen anything like it before tonight."

"It feels...wrong." The man was seemingly transfixed on the spikes. He flexed his grip on Cullen's sword. "You'd best keep your people away from it."

"It feels...? What?" Before Cullen could question him further, he was distracted by Cassandra calling out to him.

She strolled up to them without urgency, a relieved smile was on her face. It told Cullen all he needed to know. They'd won, it really was over. "Knight-Commander! We weren't certain that you'd survived."

Cullen forced a polite smile, but motioned to his injured shoulder. "Just barely. It seems the Maker saw fit to send help."

When he turned back to the man, he was met with a menacing glare. The man's head cocked slowly to the side as he stared him down. "Knight-Commander?"

"I, uh, yes?"

The man's expression lit up like a fire. He began glowing again-Cullen was close enough now to notice that it was those strange tattoos that were doing that now. He lunged at Cullen, far too quickly for him to react accordingly.

Cullen was certain he was about to be run through. But suddenly, a dark figure appeared between the two of them. It was that damned spirit from the woods again. The odd, large hat gave it away. He appeared as if he were still cloaked completely in shadow, despite the dim moonlight. It only served to drive the point home that this spirit was unnerving, at least as far as Cullen was concerned.

The man stopped in his tracks, his anger was redirected for only a brief moment. The spirit reached a hand out quickly, placing two fingers on the man's forehead. "Forget."

Fenris stumbled backwards for a step before righting himself. He had the overwhelmingly uncomfortable feeling of having lost time...and his unfamiliar surroundings only served to validate that. Where in the Maker's name was he? What was he doing? Who were these people staring at him? That woman was from the city, wasn't she? The city that fell...the wall...the darkspawn...he has to get home...Ashley...

Whoever these humans were and whatever just happened was inconsequential. He was probably just sleepwalking anyway, he likely stumbled out of the woods and frightened them. He was tired and hadn't eaten in days. He should just be grateful he was still in once piece. Fenris focused his mind again, trying to make damn sure he maintained control this time. He couldn't have himself losing time like that again. Finally noticing the sword in his hand, he smirked slightly. At least whatever episode that just unfolded had gained him a weapon. A bastard sword wouldn't have been his first choice, but it would do for now. He didn't bother acknowledging the bewildered humans again as he continued down the rocky beach. If he kept his pace, he should reach Jader by the next nightfall.


	17. The Best Part of Believe is the Lie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ashley contemplates over making a huge decision...one that could have drastic consequences

The sunsets seemed so bitter now that Ashley had watched so many alone. It used to be a favorite activity, one that she shared with Fenris every night up until recently. Both of them had been through trauma. The sunsets were always a reminder that they were free. It was a small thing but Ashley still cherished it. Especially since his exile. It was all she could hope for now; that he was watching the same sunset...wherever he was...

She sighed heavily as she brought her glass to her ruby red lips. Even the damned wine reminded her of him. Well, it was his favorite after all. Ashley couldn't help but smile at the memory the taste conjured. It was their first kiss...a tense and forbidden moment in the darkest, furthest corner of the maze. She couldn't even remember who kissed who to be honest. It didn't seem to matter after their walls came crumbling down and they let go of their anxieties and fears. After what happened in Lothering, she vowed never to open her heart again, never to trust anyone again. But there she was, completely and totally open to him, unafraid of the potential consequences.

When she first met him, she was certain she was going to have to kill him. He had been sent to assassinate her, after all. A punishment for her father daring to defy Danarius. Fenris never did tell her why he didn't go through with it. He had all the opportunity. She was alone in her room, sleeping soundly for the first time in months. He was standing right here on this balcony. Maker only knows for how long. When she woke up, he entered her room only with her permission. She was still very guarded then, she only noticed vaguely that this strange man in her room had any attractive qualities to him. When he so openly explained what he was sent there to do and why, Ashley assumed it was some kind of game.

_"A terrible way to play a game." He quipped with that damned smirk, "To tell your opponent to ready their guard._ "

Maker did she miss his voice. He somehow had the innate ability to both arouse or comfort her just by talking. He used to think it was odd that she just wanted to hear him talk sometimes. But he understood. It reminded her that he was still there. It grounded her somehow, made her feel safe. He was strong and resilient in ways that she could only pretend to be.

He used to sneak out of the Viscount's Keep every night just to sit on this chair with her and talk. About everything and anything. For such drastically different upbringings and backgrounds, they had a surprising amount of things in common. They used to laugh about the stupidest things. Like when he told her stories of the magister that lived in her manor before her family. The man was apparently so large that the city was fully convinced that he ate his failed apprentices. He had all of the furniture custom made to accommodate just how large he was. It worked out in their favor in the end. The late magister's eccentricities left them with a sturdy rocking chair that comfortably fit a pair of average sized people.

But now Fenris's spot on the chair was empty. It felt like a painful, hollow void. Even her faithful Mabari hound wouldn't sit in the spot. Ashley felt for poor Sadie. She had just begun to accept Fenris's presence when he was exiled...

Ashley reached down and scratched behind Sadie's ear. The mabari groaned appreciatively. "At least I still have you."

Sadie shifted onto her side, revealing her bright red collar, emblazoned with the Hawke family crest on her tags. It was made from the same fabric as the ribbon that Fenris wore around his wrist. Ashley couldn't help but snicker a little at that memory. Who knew that Mr. Broody Pants would turn out to be such a softie? It was quite the over-dramatic gesture at the time.

She had been teaching him how to read for a good few weeks then. The first story he read to her was about a knight in shining armor, rescuing a beautiful princess from a tower. They'd both had far too much wine, had grown far too comfortable in each other's company. It was the first night that they'd let themselves drop the facade of polite cordiality, for at least a little while. In his drunken rant, he had insisted that Ashley was a fair maiden-princess of renowned beauty and thus he had to rescue her.

She should have been scared when he led her out to the dark corner of the maze. But Fenris always felt like safety and comfort. She trusted him completely, far earlier than was logical by any standard. She was certain that even if she died out there tonight, it'd be in a happy, carefree moment. But there was no fight, no battle, no assassination attempt...just a kiss.

It was such a strong, important memory. One of the very few good ones she's had in a long while now. That moment changed everything for them. A secret friendship was one thing. But a romance-a true romance was dangerous. Feelings made you vulnerable, made you reckless. No doubt Danarius had drilled that into Fenris just like Malcolm had done to Ashley upon their arrival. And knowing that their fathers were entangled in a thinly veiled war with one another made it all the more risky. Could they really trust each other? Could this really work?

They parted on a rather dramatic and romantic note that night. With whispers of sweet nothings and promises of undying devotion. But after he was gone, Ashley couldn't help but wonder...was it real? Would he really care about her in the morning? And even if he did, how long would it last? It feels wonderful now, but it is really worth it?

She had prepared herself to end their little relationship the next night. But when she saw him standing on her balcony again, with a bashful smile on his face and an uncharacteristic cautiousness in his eyes, her resolve broke. She couldn't do it, Maker damn her but she was weak. And then he just had to sheepishly give her the pendant...

_"A favor for a favor?" A pained look crossed his face, his bashful smile faded only slightly. He scratched at the back of his neck, looking away from her for a moment._

_Ashley turned the pendant over in her palm. "Fenris, this-it's beautiful, you shouldn't have..."_

_"I didn't. It, uh," He sighed, fidgeting with a loosening button on his jacket. "It's just something I've always had. It was made for me, supposedly. But I, uh...I want you to have it...If you want it, that is...?"_

_It was only then that Ashley realized that he was now wearing that silly ribbon around his wrist. He'd folded it so that her family crest was visible only on the inside of his forearm. It was a huge risk that he had taken. That was definitely the kind of thing that Danarius wouldn't easily miss. Fenris was declaring his relationship openly, to anyone who dared look close enough. She damn near melted thinking about the amount of trust he had just placed in her. The other houses scrutinized all of Danarius's heirs like it was a religious mandate, it wouldn't be long before their relationship was publicly known._

_He clearly noticed her gaze, her hesitation. It made doubt swell up in him. He shuffled on his feet, contemplating whether it was a good idea to swan dive off the balcony right now. "I'm sorry, this is all wrong. I didn't mean to-"_

_"Fenris," Ashley gently guided him to look down at her again. She gave him a reassuring smile as she fastened the pendant around her neck. When it was properly displayed, she brought her gaze up to stare into his eyes. "I trust you, too."_

_It wasn't the thing that she wanted to say. But it was really, truly, way too soon for that._

As she fiddled with the wolf pendant now, she let her mind wander to the message she'd received earlier that evening. The one that had prompted her to drink melancholy-flavored wine in a spot filled with bittersweet memories. She had been skeptical at first. What could the White Divine ever want with an Imperial Magister? And why her? But his proposal was...interesting to say the least...

The very thought of it all repulsed her to nausea at first. But now as she looked at the waning sunset, all she could see was her hope dying. If Fenris was still alive, he'd surely have made it back by now...how long should she really wait? The emotional part of her answered without hesitation, "Forever."

_"It doesn't hurt to hear him out." Leandra had said as carefully as she could manage. "If you can agree to certain terms, it could give you key resources that no other magister can access."_

_Ashley had a sudden fire behind her eyes as she glared at her mother. "And what of Fenris?"_

_"Sweetheart-"_

_"No!"_

_Leandra took a cautious step towards her eldest daughter, extending a hand to rest on her shoulder slowly. "You may never love again. And you will never forget him. But you are allowed to move on."_

_Ashley allowed the contact, but didn't soften to her approach. "He's not dead, mother."_

_"And if that's true then he'll waltz right in here one day soon. He'll sweep you off your feet and you'll have your happily ever after-for as long as that lasts. And when that happens, you can tell him that this alliance brought you the means you needed to take Danarius down once and for all. Wouldn't he want that?"_

_"Not if...this...is the price!"_

_"Fenris is a smart young man, he would understand."_

_Ashley shook her head bitterly. "You don't know him."_

_"But you do, I know. And ultimately it's your decision, Magister." Leandra backed away again, an emotionless expression taking over her face again. She nodded curtly to her before leaving Ashley in her all-too-empty bedroom._

She glanced absently at the clock in the corner of the tablet. It had been well over two hours, now. A decision needed to be made, especially since he knew that the message had been received. There was a logic in Leandra's argument that Ashley couldn't deny. It was a cold, calculating type of logic. But it was there nonetheless. It reminded her breifly of how far the both of them had fallen from their normal selves. When Ashley had told her about Fenris, she was overjoyed. All she could talk about was how it was so nice to see Ashley in love again. She damn near wouldn't shut up about how it was so great to see Ashley following her heart.

But Malcolm's death took the light out of her life and Garrett's exile just compounded it. Now, this was the new normal. Leandra was seemingly reduced to the careless nobles she despised in her upbringing. Now her counseling was only ever revolving around how the Hawke family can rise in power and status.

Ashley tried hard to focus back to the task at hand as she flicked the tablet back on again. She made sure to scan over the message a few more times to make sure she had a complete understanding of the situation. Sadie stirred and whined in her sleep at her feet, nuzzling her human's leg absentmindedly. She took a small bit of comfort in knowing that at least she had one truly faithful companion to count on. If this didn't turn out the way that she hoped...perhaps Sadie could at least take a chunk out of the Divine for Fenris.

Sadie huffed contently in her sleep, making Ashley smile just slightly. "Definitely smarter than your average tax collector."

With a sigh, she pulled up the private chatting app and called her mother. Leandra appeared to let it ring until just before she'd miss the call. She opened the video to see Ashley rolling her eyes.

Leandra put on perhaps the most counterfeit smile that Ashley had ever seen from her. "My darling daughter, are you currently incapable of speaking to me in person or are you simply attempting to aggravate me?"

A multitude of juvenile expletives threatened to pop right out of Ashley's mouth but by small bit of Andraste's mercy she was able to hold her tongue. "I've made a decision regarding the Divine's...request."

The older woman's expression sharpened with interest. "And what decision is that?"

Ashley glanced at Fenris's empty spot, praying that she'd be able to find a way to explain this all to him in a way that wouldn't make him hate her. "I want you to arrange for further negotiations."

A proud smile beamed across Leandra's face. "A wise decision, my daughter."

"That..." She fiddled unconsciously with the silver wolf pendant as she overlooked the now darkened grounds of the estate. "remains to be seen..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case anyone was wondering, the chapter title comes from a Fall Out Boy song, "Sophomore Slump or Comeback of the Year", which gave me the motivation to write the chapter.


	18. Safe Harbor...Maybe?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rainier's group makes it to Denerim...but it may not be the safe harbor they were looking for

Wading through the thick, unkempt forest was getting incredibly tiresome. Solona tried to stifle a groan, her back was positively killing her. Rainer's warning had scared her enough not to even entertain the idea of setting Ayden down though. _Just tough it out, she thought, we can't be much further now..._

Ayden seemed to have been scared enough by what happened to not complain, which Solona was grateful for. She couldn't shake a nagging feeling in the back of her head that this whole experience was going to turn out to have been traumatizing for him. She was already mentally preparing herself to deal with nightmares and regressing to him sleeping in her bed again. At the moment though, she didn't really care whether he slept in her bed or not, so long as she actually got to sleep in a bed. _It can't be that much farther, right?_

Rainier hadn't said much since they'd left that ruined hotel. Not that marching in a staggered line was really accommodating for conversation anyway. The sun was just starting to peak over the horizon when large, imposing walls around Denerim came into view. A small bit of relief washed over him, but he quelled it back down. He'd learned his lesson one too many times about that kind of thing. You were never truly safe until you had a proper gate and soldiers behind you...and even then, you could never let your guard down.

Dorian sighed longingly. "Ah, Maker's Breath. I never thought I'd be so delighted to see a southerner city."

"This way." Rainier gruffly corrected when the group started heading for the main road. "Remember Rule #2: Keep off the-"

"Blighted Roads. Yes, yes we heard you the first 10 times."

"Then quit your bitching and keep to it. You can rest your pampered ass when we're safe."

"Pampered?" Dorian let out a clearly sarcastic gasp. "How gracious of you to notice. Shall I expect a trio of handsome servants to hand-feed me grapes while I lounge in a hot bath?"

"Take it up with the Warden Welcoming Committee."

"You have a welcoming committee?"

"No."

Dorian grunted in disgust. "And here I thought I dropped my broody baggage."

"Would you shut up? You'll give away our damned position."

"Ah, yes, our super-secret position. Because a sentry with half a brain wouldn't notice a group of vagabonds stumbling around their forest."

Rainier took a sharp turn towards a nearby tree. He glared directly at Dorian as he gripped the familiar false branch and pulled it downward. The ground opened up beneath Dorian quickly, sending him tumbling down a set of hidden stone stairs. Rainier looked positively pleased with himself. He barely held back a snicker as he motioned for the others to follow Dorian. He offered Solona a hand to steady herself for the first couple of steps. "Watch your footing, ma'am."

Alistair all but jumped to Solona's aide. She huffed a weary laugh as he tucked her and Ayden into his side. "I'm fine, Alistair."

He gave her a playful smile. "Well maybe I'm scared, did you ever think about that, hmm?"

Ayden perked his head up for a moment before laying it back down on Solona's shoulder. "Heroes aren't allowed to be afraid."

"I...uh, well, hard to argue that..."

Dorian stood up slowly, brushing himself off. He looked up at Rainier as Alistair and Solona passed and gave him a distinctively rude gesture before following them. Rainier rolled his eyes but turned his attention to Salem who seemed hesitant to follow the others. "Problem?"

"A question," She corrected. "Where does this lead?"

"Well, that's a bit of a long story. The tunnel ends in the King's study. He's the last remaining ally of the Wardens. If we're to rebuild our numbers, it starts here."

Salem's eyes narrowed as she scanned over Denerim's walls. "Will the lowlanders actually help us?"

Rainier shrugged. "They'll have to if they know what's good for them."

"And if they don't?"

"Then..." He sighed heavily. "We fight as much as we can for as long as we can. It's all we have."

Salem nodded slowly, clearing thinking deeply about it all. "I...understand."

"Good. Now, we need to move. We'll be spotted if we stand out here much longer."

She took a deep breath before she descended the steps quickly, forming an icy spell in her hands. _Doesn't like enclosed spaces, probably. Noted._ Rainier had learned that it was a good idea to keep track of his subordinates' weaknesses or fears. If they were ever in a situation that would aggravate it, he'd have to plan for it. He was glad to have an avvar on his side though. If nothing else, he wouldn't have to worry about her turning tail and running in the middle of a battle. Which was more than he could say for most of those damned Northern recruits.

He followed Salem closely, hoping to get into the tunnel as quickly as possible. He pressed against a seemingly random brick in the wall and the hatch above them closed slowly. Rainier watched the hatch intently until it sealed once more. When he turned back to the group, a realization came over him. The tunnel was pitch black, as it was meant to be. A Warden's sight was unaffected by darkness. But to those without the taint, the inability to see was quite the problem.

"Well, this is just bloody convenient." Dorian snarked. "Should I register a complaint with the Warden Construction Committee?"

"Or," Rainier shuffled passed everyone to stand at the front again. "You could use your damned magic for something practical, for once."

"Practicality?! Oh, the horror!" Dorian proceeded to conjure a small fireball to light the way, but he couldn't resist adding sass to the action by turning the fire pink.

"Maker's Balls." Rainier groaned, but made a measured effort to ignore him as he led the group down the tunnel.

Ayden scowled at the fireball. "Pink is a girl's color."

Solona sighed heavily. "Who told you that?"

"Grandpa."

"Well, he sounds like a fool." Dorian smirked playfully as he twirled the pink fire around his fingers. "Pink is a pretty color. And girls aren't the only ones who can be pretty."

"Oh..." Ayden pulled himself back so he could talk to Solona. "Mom, can we buy the pink car from the store?"

"The...what?" Solona's mind sluggishly remembered their last trip to the department store, and even more vaguely remembered the toy he was talking about. "You already have a red one, honey."

"Yeah, but when I raced Amy at school, her car was faster. So, I want the pink one now."

"Honey, they're the same one."

"Nuh uh. Amy said they made the pink one faster because girls are supposed to be better than boys."

Salem scoffed. "Fucking lowlanders."

Ayden giggled uncontrollably, which only was made worse by Alistair laughing with him. Solona rolled her eyes and took a deep breath. "Alright, next time we go to the store, we'll see if we can find it. But you'll have to do some chores to earn it, deal?"

"Deal." Ayden agreed through snickers. "Can I get down now? My legs hurt."

Rainier turned back for a moment to nod at Solona. "Should be fine now, ma'am. But best keep a hold on him just in case."

Solona muttered a praise to the Maker as she finally set Ayden down. Her back audibly popped a couple of times when she stood back up. "Welcoming Committee aside, I don't suppose there will be an opportunity for a hot bath soon?"

"King Cailan has always shown the Wardens the upmost hospitality. I'm sure he'll extend the courtesy to you and your boy too."

"Ugh." Ayden drooped his shoulders dramatically. "The King sucks."

Alistair outright chuckled at that. He only stopped when he caught Solona's scolding glance.

"I'll have to ask you to can the opinions for now, lad. The Wardens aren't going to find help anywhere else for the moment." Rainier was first to reach the long staircase at the end of the tunnel. He stopped on the first step, motioning for everyone else to do the same. "Salem, up front." Salem held a questioning look as she shuffled her way up to him. Rainier leaned in close enough to whisper to her. "I go in first. Keep the others down here until I tell you otherwise. If shit goes south, you get them out of here. You stick to the rules and head North. There's a fort called Vigil's Keep in Amaranthine. You take the others there and rebuild. There's a fortune beneath the throne in the great hall. It belongs to the Howe family."

"I thought the King was a friend...?"

"Many supposed friends have turned on the Wardens in recent years. You can never be too careful. Remember that."

Salem focused hard and made herself commit his every word to her memory. She wistfully thought of how much easier than might have been if she'd still had her spirit guide...She shook the depressing thoughts away and nodded affirmatively. "Understood, Commander."

Rainier concealed a deep breath as he climbed up the long staircase. When the others moved to follow, Salem held her arm out to stop them. She placed a finger over her lips to tell them to keep quiet. Solona knelt down next to Ayden, clutching him tight and covering his mouth. Alistair stepped in front of Solona and placed his shield down in front of Ayden, hoping to obscure them from view.

Dorian let out an indignant sigh as he let the pink fireball flicker out. "So much cloak and dagger, I'm starting to get homesick."

Once Rainier was sure everyone was ready, he reached for another seemingly random brick in the wall. This one however, apparently needed to be turned slightly instead of pushed. The wall in front of him slid open nearly silently. Rainier searched the room ahead for any sign of trouble. But he found the King's study to be exactly as it should have been...except the King wasn't there. Rainier groaned in annoyance. Of course, the bastard wouldn't be right where he needed him. He took a couple of steps into the room, just to be damn sure that nothing was amiss. He was about to call out to Salem when the door to the study opened quickly.

Rainier drew his shield quickly and whipped around to face the door. A thin woman with short, red hair walked right in casually. Her black and silver armor made her look like some kind of assassin. The burning sun symbol on her shoulder gave her away as some kind of Chantry agent. Rainier had a mind to warn the others but before he could speak, the woman crossed the room and offered out her hand as friendly as possible.

"You must be Warden-Commander Rainier. The King spoke highly of you."

Rainier looked her over for a moment, trying to gauge what her game was. As nice as she seemed to be, it was clear that she had some scheme in the works. There was something so insincere about her tone of voice. As if she were expecting to be stabbed just as much as he was. He cautious shook her hand. "You seem to have me at a disadvantage, miss."

"Ah, of course. Where are my manners? My name is Leliana, Left Hand of Divine Alexander."

"Right..." Rainer stepped back from her as casually as he could manage, keeping his shield ready at his side. "And why exactly are you barging into the King's study?"

Leliana smirked. "I could ask you that same question. But we both know that would be a waste of time."

"Out with it, then. Where is the King?"

"Dead, I'm afraid." Leliana seemed to watch Rainier's reaction closely. When she seemed satisfied, she continued. "The work of an assassin late last night. The castle has been in an uproar ever since. I had hoped to catch the assassin escaping through the tunnel. But here you are."

Rainier's fists clenched at his sides. This was the last bloody thing he needed to deal with right now. "The Wardens had nothing to do with it."

"Of course not. It would have been counter-intuitive to murder your last political ally. Still, you won't find many sympathetic to your order here."

"You don't say."

Leliana smirked again, her gaze drifting to the opened tunnel for a fleeting moment. "The Divine is prepared to offer an alliance, if you're amenable."

"Oh, does he now?" Rainier sneered at her. "But he couldn't be bothered before, could he?"

"Divine Alexander was elected only weeks ago. Your grievances are with his predecessor." Leliana shrugged as she backed away towards the door. "Your group needs rest and you need allies now more than ever. It couldn't hurt to hear him out now, wouldn't it?"

Rainier cursed under his breath. It pissed him off to no end, but the agent was right. They were out of options. He'd promised to get the woman and child to safety, and he couldn't really risk sending them to amaranthine without a proper rest. With a weary sigh, he motioned to Salem to bring the rest of them up.

Leliana watched the group emerge from the tunnel intently. Her gaze fixed on Alistair for a long moment, it was evident that some sort of idea had sparked in her head. "Just so you know, you may have a larger bargaining chip than you realize..."

Rainier followed her gaze to Alistair, who was looking between the both of them like the kid who got his hand caught in the cookie jar. That definitely wasn't part of the plan...but if he had to lose a recruit for the good of the order... "We'll see about that."

"Just food for thought, of course. If he truly is your recruit, then the choice is ultimately yours, Warden-Commander." Leliana gave the group a friendly smile as she opened the door again. "Follow me, please."

Rainier reluctantly nodded to the group. The rest followed behind with very degrees of wariness. Except for Alistair. He shuffled behind the rest, feeling as confused as ever. "No one is really going to explain that? No? Nothing. Ugh."


	19. Resurrection and Intervention

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A member of the Evanuris takes an interest in the world...While Cassandra and Barris stage an intervention.

Lothering was a desiccated corpse by now. The darkspawn and demons had the run of the place. Not a single living soul had survived the horrors that took place there. Even for a god of death, Falon'Din found this place to be particularly dismal. The bottom of his long robes brushed carelessly over the bodies of fallen Templars and unfortunate civilians alike. He only paid heed to the few elven bodies that he found, making sure to kneel and commend their souls to have safe and proper passage to the Beyond. It didn't matter from which time period or specific dimension these elves hailed from. They were still children of the evanuris—their souls were still his responsibility.

He cut a slow path through the despondent and empty streets until he found the dilapidated remains of the chantry. The monsters kept a respectful distance from him. They seemed to recognize him as a being of power, too much power for them to handle. He studied them in morbid curiosity for a moment. It was a truly frightening thing to see darkspawn react so intelligently. The last time he had ventured here, the darkspawn behaved mindlessly—but there was something different about them now. It was interesting…in a horrifying way. Had he the time, he would have had a mind to poke around this dimension for a while longer to truly experiment. He had a war to prepare for however, so he pressed on with his objective.

It didn't take him long to find Myrris's body. He had learned long ago to simply narrow down the area and look for the wretched soul that appeared to have gone out in a "blaze of glory" as he would have put it. How many times had he done this before? Surely too much to count now—and it surely didn't matter. Myrris was damned for eternity. And eternity is simply too long to put a number to, after all.

Falon'Din knelt over his charge slowly, examining the possessed husk he inhabited. At least he appeared to be intact this time, a minor miracle so far as he was concerned. He set to work performing the all-too-familiar reanimation ritual. So practiced was he that it took only a few short moments before Myrris was gasping and coughing the air back into his lungs. "Ah! Fenhed—!"

A slender, nearly skeletal hand covered Myrris's mouth tightly before he could make too much noise. "As obnoxious as ever, I see. I would advise you to keep your commotion to a minimum. Unless of course you want to go through this again."

Myrris pried his hand off with a grunt. His chest was still heaving but he did his best to keep his voice at a hushed tone. "Nice to see you too, Falon'Dick."

"Ah, I did miss your particular brand of humor. It's been far too quiet while you were resting on your laurels." The elven god of death gestured to the aftermath of the carnage around them. "I must say, you picked a rather horrifying end this time. Tell me, did you find something worth dying for?"

Myrris sat upright with a truly disgruntled groan, managing to give his nemesis a thoroughly rude gesture. "Yeah. This universe's Cullen and some others made it out…It's kinda nice to die as a hero every once in a while, now that you mention it."

Falon'Din shook his head disapprovingly. "Always so concerned for the shemlens. I would warn you that they would be your downfall, but well, we both know that doesn't much matter to you anymore."

"Yeah, yeah, fuck you too." Myrris caught a glimpse of a genlock gnawing on a corpse just outside the chantry and suddenly felt his stomach churn. He turned his attention back with a sneer on his face. "You wanna actually tell me why I got thrown here? Oh, by the way—pretty dick move to break the mirror. I mean, who even does that?!"

A deep frown crossed the God's face. "I was pondering that particular quandary myself…but judging from your reaction, it seems you won't have the answers I seek either. A pity."

Myrris did his best to imitate Cassandra's patented disgusted noise. "What a twat."

"Ah, of course. As enlightening as ever. Well, if you'll be of no further help, then I suppose I shall leave you to your stumbling. I'm actually quite eager to see if you do in fact discover your purpose here—more so if you find out who exactly sent you here, but that is neither here nor there it seems." Falon'Din slowly stood up and began making his way towards the ruined streets. "Until we meet again, Myrris. I'm sure it won't be long."

Myrris grumbled under his breath as he watched Falon'Din disappear. It was an impressive trick the first time that he'd seen it. But after, what, hundreds of years at least? It was nothing special. Neither was whatever bits of rambling he was going on about. Did he really try to claim that he didn't send him here? What kind of an utter moron would he have to be to believe that shit? Like a member of the evanuris would ever suffer someone encroaching upon their territory. Myrris shivered involuntarily, becoming thoroughly creeped out that he was thinking like Falon'Din for even a moment.

"Okay, okay, fuck that…now, how do I get out of this shit show…"

Behind him, a low bit of growling alerted him to the fact that a certain kind of beasty was within his proximity. Myrris slowly looked back to find a genlock standing behind him. "Ah shit…"

He shot a quick glance outside, which confirmed that this was the same one that was just having a snack on the steps of the chantry. It strangely didn't attack him immediately either. It looked at him strangely, drawing in close to sniff at him.

Myrris nearly gagged. "Ah, fuck, ever hear of a tic-tac?"

The genlock's features grew alert suddenly. The creature reared it head back and emitted an ear-piercing roar. Its roar was almost instantly answered by cries and screeches from across the city, there was a noticeable rumble in the ground. Myrris wasn't sticking around to see how many of big, fat, and ugly's buddies were coming to eat him. He quickly dived through a broken window, managing to snag his clothes on the shattered glass in the process and rip them even further.

"Okay Zombie Apocalypse mode engaged." He muttered to himself as he took off in a dead sprint towards the edge of town. "Cardio is my buddy, rule number one is down." He rounded a corner, unwittingly coming in to full sight of an emissary that lurked in a nearby ruined building. The structure was so damaged that you could see right through to the back of it; the emissary appeared to have been coming from the decrepit bathroom. Myrris pushed himself to run even faster, employing the zig-zag method so as not to die like an actual moron this time. "Remember kids: always beware of bathrooms!"

******

When Cullen led the refugees to Denerim, they did not find the salvation they had been hoping for. Instead, the city was under a lock-down. Everyone was being scrutinized and damn near harassed by the guardsmen. The King had just been murdered; they'd learned. Cullen couldn't claim to have known the man enough to really care about it. He was just a royal ass to warm the royal throne, to be honest. But it only served to further convince him that the whole world was going to shit again. After going through all of the red tape to get the civilians safely behind the city walls, Cullen seemed to have a dangerous amount of free time on his hands. Cassandra had all but dragged him to see proper doctors, who had put him on 'light duty' for the foreseeable future. Not that it much mattered anyway. His new official orders were to wait for an audience with the Divine.

It was the waiting that was most painful. The sitting on his hands and doing fuck all. The Chantry was gracious enough to provide him and the other remaining templars with pre-furnished apartments. They were so gracious it seemed, that they had intended to take away every possible task that could have possibly served to distract him. The apartment was furnished. The utilities were hooked up and paid for in advance. They even set up basic cable. The fridge had even come fully stocked as well, though he had yet to touch anything but the Ferelden pale ale and the healing poultices. He wasn't even sure why he bothered with the poultices. They tasted like absolute shit. And it wasn't like he was any good to anyone even when he was fully healed, it wasn't like it actually mattered when he recovered…or if.

The cable lineup was disappointingly or outright mind-numbing at the best of times. He had no grand routine beyond surfing the channels and occasionally rising from the couch to grab another ale. He must have spent days doing nothing but just that. He never once felt hungry, but it seemed his body had simply forgotten to tell him about it. The simple act of rising to feed his new addiction seemed to be his undoing. His head grew fuzzy quickly, his vision blurred as if a bloody spell had affected him…he never felt himself hit the floor but he was keenly aware that he was unconscious somehow. Demons were suddenly swarming him from all sides, but he was seemingly paralyzed. They tormented him in all the usual ways. With their pokes and prods and their barbed words and seductively whispered offers. It happened so often that it felt like old news now…can you truly keep calling them nightmares if they start to become so commonplace that you've desensitized yourself from even your worst fear? He only vaguely remembered hearing a man's voice before the demons were banished away from him…

When he woke up on his couch, he found Barris and Cassandra sitting shoulder-to-shoulder on the coffee table, staring down at him disappointedly. They were both dressed in civilian clothes—Cassandra even wore makeup around her eyes, which he only really noticed because of how odd a sight it was. Still didn't change the fact that they seemed intent on bothering him though.

"Oh, what now?"

Barris turned to the Seeker momentarily. "See? I told you he'd be grumpy."

Cassandra seemed wholly disturbed. "This behavior is truly unbecoming."

Cullen groaned as he slowly sat upright, bringing his feet to rest on the floor. His head still felt wobbly but he brushed it off for now. He ran his hand down the side of his face, suddenly realizing that his facial hair had grown out of control. Must be a sight to see, he mused bitterly. "What do you want?"

"Well, for starters." Barris reached behind him and held up an empty poultice bottle. "Have you been bloody drinking this?"

"Doctor's orders." He griped.

Cassandra shared a concerned look with Barris. "It was meant to be applied topically."

Cullen huffed a bitter laugh, "Just add to the list of my failures."

"Alright, that's it." Barris tossed down the empty bottle and pointed an authoritative finger at his friend. "You're changing your damned clothes and you're coming with us."

Cassandra shot him a confused glance. "That wasn't the plan?"

Barris shrugged. "Plan changed when I saw how mopey he is. A stern talking to isn't going to see him though this. He needs to get out. Eat a hearty meal. Let loose."

"You're going to take him out? In public?"

Cullen groaned again. "No. He's not."

"We are," He corrected, giving Cullen a stern look. "And it isn't up for debate. Now change your damned clothes."

"You can't order me, Lieutenant." Cullen nearly spat his words out with hateful intent. He wasn't sure if he meant it, but he knew he wasn't about to make any effort to correct it.

"Actually, he can," Cassandra agreed. "The Divine promoted him to Knight-Captain and appointed him to lead the Lothering templars while you're…indisposed."

Cullen's gaze darkened as he focused on Barris again. "So, this is it, is it? You're finally coming for my job now? I should have bloody well known."

"Alright, I'm not listening to this." He stood up abruptly, grabbing the collar of Cullen's shirt and pulling him up with him. "You've got two options: you go into your damn bedroom and change your maker-forsaken clothes, or I drag you down to the corner pub just as you are."

Cassandra made a disgusted noise. "Please tell me the latter isn't actually an option."

"He has a choice of how he wants to do it." Barris made sure to make eye contact with Cullen to ensure that he heard and processed what he was about to say to him. "But he has to move on from here."

Cullen recognized those words. He had told Barris that when he showed up at the Lothering chantry, begging to join the order. His parents had just been exiled, his older brother had disowned him to horde their parents' money and influence to himself. Barris had nothing left then, but Cullen gave him a chance to make himself better. And now…it seems the roles had reversed. Cullen wasn't exactly sure that he was humbled or anything by the realization, but it certainly struck him emotionally.

He fought to keep tears in his eyes as he nodded quietly at him. He was silent as he changed in to clean clothes and freshened himself up with deodorant and cologne. He didn't even say a word when as he followed Barris and Cassandra to the pub on the corner. He wasn't quite ready to admit it yet, but he was starting to think that Barris had the right idea. The fresh air alone seemed to be doing wonders for his mood.

The pub was busy, it seemed it was their karaoke night. Cullen didn't really mind though, watching people make fools out of themselves was oddly therapeutic. The food helped immensely too; he couldn't remember the last time he had a proper Ferelden stew made for him. Watching all of these people drinking and chat around him somehow began to seem like a glimmer of hope for him. They were blissfully unaware of the danger they could all be in soon…but maybe that was good? What purpose did the constant worry serve? Perhaps that was the beer talking though. Cullen was rather astonished to see that Barris was encouraging him furthering his new drinking habit. Not that he was complaining about that, either. He was so damned depressed that it seemed the alcohol only served to make him give less and less of a damn the more he drank. Barris had left Cassandra and Cullen by themselves for several minutes. And by the end of Cullen's third beer, he was regaling Cassandra with stories from Lothering.

"And then," Cullen leaned heavily against her for a moment, nearly knocking her off of her stool. "He just comes waltzing right through, right?" He burst into to a completely inebriated chuckle. "Naked as the day the Maker made him. He fucking salutes us and carries on his way."

"He did not!"

"I swear! Ah, Meredith wanted to fry him for it. But because he kept the damn helmet on, no one could ever prove it was him!"

Cassandra snickered. She was taking great pleasure in knowing that they'd turned his mood around for the better, at least for now. "Except for you, perhaps."

"What? Me? No, no, no, no…no. That would violate bro code."

"I refuse to believe that a Knight-Commander follows a 'bro code' over a long-standing Chantry edit."

"Hey, now," He pointed at her sloppily with his mug. "Bro code predates the Chantry. You can't disrespect it." He drained the last of his beer, setting down the empty glass mug a little too roughly. "I there's a hole in my cup."

Cassandra rolled her eyes playfully as Barris strolled back up to the table. "Good, he can be your problem now."

"Heeeeey, don't be mean! You're supposed to be making me feel better again."

Barris clapped his shoulder, eyeing him with a mischievous smile. "Lucky for you, I got just the thing to do that."

"More beer?"

"Even better." He shot a knowing smirk in Cassandra's direction before leading Cullen towards the back of the pub. He weaved his way through the crowd until he placed Cullen in front of the stage.

Cullen looked around sluggishly, obviously confused. "Where's the beer?"

"Oh, right, about that. You can't get any more unless you sing a song."

"What?" He limply pointed towards the DJ who was running the karaoke booth. "Whatever happened to money, hmm?"

Barris turned him back towards him. "Think of it this way: You can only buy one beer, right? But if you sing, you get all of the beers!"

"All of them? Really?"

"Every last one." Barris fought hard to keep himself from bursting out laughing. Cullen was going to hate him in the morning. But it would be worth it, and he'd have fun for now. That's all that really mattered.

"So, what's this about a song?"

"Don't worry about it! You just get on the stage, and I'll pick one for you."

Cullen hugged him suddenly. "You're a real friend, I like you."

Barris snickered as he reached down into the prop tote and pulled out a cowboy hat. "Here, it's dangerous to go up there alone."

"Right, good thought…need the hat." Cullen shoved the hat roughly on his head as he stumbled onto the stage. He was only vaguely aware of what he was doing—but his brain thought every last bit of this was a great idea. He threw his hands up in the air and addressed the pub. "I'm gonna sing!"

The pub patrons roared cheerfully for him, raising their glasses and shouting encouragements at him. Barris conducted a hushed conversation with the DJ, who seemed totally amused by whatever he had said to him. When he was done, he shuffled his way back to sit at the table with Cassandra. Whatever he said to her had made her laugh too.

Cullen sat up there on the stage waiting for a painfully silent moment or two before the song started playing. He rolled his head to read the lyric screen. "Honky Tonk Badon—hey I know this song!"

Barris stood up from the table, shouting up to him, "Sing, man, sing!" The pub patron's roared in agreement, giving drunk Cullen the confidence to put on one hell of a show.

Cassandra was nearly in tears before the song was through. "Maker's Breath, I thought they would have kicked him out by now."

Cullen had seemingly thought it was a wondrous idea to take his shirt off and swing it around above his head on stage. Barris nearly doubled over with laughter. "He's going to kill us."

"We'll simply have to remind him that he had fun."

Barris clinked his glass with Cassandra's. "I'll drink to that."

They would most certainly have a catastrophic fallout in the morning. But for now, they needed this. The world could wait until tomorrow before it ended, right?


	20. Red Tape and Bullshittery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ashley reads over the Divine's proposal with her trusty Spymaster, while a new threat looms over Kirkwall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for updating so late, real life has been kicking me in the ass lately. I swear I still have plenty more coming for the story, thanks for sticking with it! You guys are awesome :)

Ashley leaned heavily over the long wooden table. The sun had set hours ago, leaving the library to be illuminated only by the fireplace and the dim desk lamp. The Divine's extensive contract had been sent over that morning, and still they hadn't worked their way through the nuances of it. She had hoped that Tallis would be around by now to help her navigate her way through this; she had a mind for these kinds of machinations, after all. But with her mysterious and quite notable absence, it was left up to herself and her Spymaster.

Zevran groaned indignantly as he twirled his favored dagger in his hand. "This is simply too wordy…you'd need an assembled team of egg-heads to read through this legal-ease."

"I imagine that's the point. Are we certain he's not a magister?"

That earned his tell-tale smirk. "No magic, but my contacts claim he does have a singular fixation on Kirkwall. Which is itself curious. Why take such an interest in a city so far from your own seat of power? And if you simply wanted to expand your reach, you could start with any of the cities. Kirkwall is an ambitious target to be sure."

"Unless you have an ally on the inside."

The Spymaster hummed in approval, but he'd been in the Hawkes' employ long enough for Ashley to know that he was holding something back. She had never expected it when her father bought out his contract from the Crows all those years ago, but their time together had tempered an easy friendship. Zevran proved to be an open-minded friend and a steadfast ally when the need arose. He remained outwardly flippant, of course. But such was his way. If asked he always claimed that the money was good and the estate's proximity to the Blooming Rose was unbeatable. But he had proven that he cared about her family. He had shed blood for them, put his own life at risk to protect Ashley's siblings. She recognized that it must be hard for a Crow to change his feathers, but his heart was in the right place, and that was all she could ask.

Ashley sunk down in the nearest armchair. Her fingers began fiddling with the wolf pendant around her neck. "Alright, spit it out. What's your theory?"

Zevran's eyes lit up as he pulled up a seat next to her. "Ah ha! I thought you'd never ask!" He reached across the table for a large, bright red folder. The thing was absolutely filled to the brim with papers. Zevran flipped it open carefully in front of her, revealing a clearly candid photo of a rather average-looking human man. "May I present the dreaded White Divine: Alexander the XIV…also known as Prince Sebastian Vael."

"A Prince?" She scoffed. "The only Monarchy left is Ferelden, and I don't see that man producing any legitimate heirs anytime soon."

Zevran chuckled. "You're right about that much, at least." He leafed through the pages until he pulled out a handful of obituaries. "The Vaels once ruled Starkhaven."

Ashley ran her hand over the papers solemnly. She couldn't help but feel a twinge of sympathy for the man. She knew what it was like to lose family. And to lose so many so quickly…she counted herself lucky to still have Bethany and Leandra. It was all too easy to imagine the kind of despair he must have felt, the kind of anger…But he was no friend of hers, she reminded herself. She couldn't afford to have sympathy for someone that may very well be a wolf in sheep's clothing.

With a dastardly smirk, Zevran pulled out a photocopy of two separate maps in comparison. The second, more modern one, was notably missing another city-state adjacent to Kirkwall. "It used to be another city—Kirkwall's largest trade partner, even. They bowed to the Archon like everyone else for generations. But all that changed when the late King had a change of heart…" Another bit of rifling produced a rather fanciful and wordy declaration. "The man was seemingly so moved by the southerners' Chant that he saw fit to secede from the Imperial Marches."

Ashley answered with a bitter laugh. "Was he brave or stupid?"

"I would argue the latter, considering the outcome." He pulled a weathered pictured of a castle engulfed in flames with what appeared to be the entire magisterium standing in front of it. A large pile of bodies laid between them and the castle. "The story goes that young Sebastian here was saved thanks to a quick-thinking servant who used some sort of—and I quote— "Magic Trickery" to make him disappear before the magisters got to him."

"How is this not common knowledge? How did the Chantry not start a war over this?"

"If it weren't for the efforts of a certain devilishly handsome Spymaster, you wouldn't know any of this yourself. The event isn't even recorded in the public libraries. It seems they intended to wipe Starkhaven completely out of history itself…but as for the latter? It's difficult to say. Our would-be Prince would have been the only one left alive to make a fuss over it. But why wait so long? And now that he has the fanciful hat, why not declare your own war?"

She muttered under her breath as she looked over the documents in front of her. "Another answer, another question…"

"But of course. It'd be poor taste to simply spell out your evil plan. That would ruin the whole game."

"So what do you think he wants, then? Revenge? And how would a damned marriage-alliance further that goal?"

"Ah, all good questions, my bloodthirsty friend. And I think I have the answer…" He slipped out a very official-looking document from the very bottom of the pile. It was decorated with the seal of the Viscount and signed by every member of the magisterium at that time. "Three guesses who ordered the purging."

It didn't take long for her to find the biggest name at the bottom of the document. She nearly spat out the word. She truly couldn't despise the man any more than she already did. "Danarius."

"My theory, you ask? This fallen Prince had been watching Kirkwall for some time; he must seek to end Danarius, after all. He likely has his own spies inside the city, even at this very moment. And I'd bet my next paycheck that one of his little birds singled you out because of your obvious common enemy."

She pondered it for a moment. It was a plausible enough explanation. She wasn't naïve enough to think that she wasn't being watched. This was Kirkwall, if you believed you had true privacy within this city, you were a total fool. "So, what's your take? The enemy of my enemy sort of thing?"

"For him, yes. It's a smart plan if he can pull it off." Zevran slowly pulled the damnable marriage contract back in front of them. "But for you…can I be honest?"

"Always, Zevran."

He gave her a sympathetic smile. "I'm not sure it's worth it. The contract talks about solidifying the marriage with heirs. It might just be political at its core, but he still intends to treat it like a true union of man-and-wife…he's also demanding a grand, andrastian wedding and really, who has time for that? All the singing, and the speeches, and the readings, and the—" He sighed, getting himself back on track before she could scold him for it. "You will never be happy with this. And you know your man will be royally pissed—pun intended—when he gets back here."

Ashley couldn't help but smile at that. "Thank you…for saying 'when', instead of 'if'…"

"Ha! Whoever said 'if' is a total moron. Fenris will quite literally tear through the whole damned world to get back home to you—innumerable darkspawn hordes or no." He nudged her elbow with his. It was his attempt at an encouraging gesture, Ashley realized. It was heartwarming to say the least. She was silently grateful that he was ever respectful of her need for personal space. "But only problem being: The Divine definitely has the wealth and resources to back his offer up…and the alliance could truly win this war for you, by a landslide."

"You don't think Fenris will understand?"

Zevran leaned back, carefully balancing his chair on the back legs. "Truly, that's a tough read. I can see it going two ways…"

"Which are…?"

"He could see the situation practically. Perhaps the ease of taking Danarius down would be too enticing for him to be truly angry."

"Or?"

"He might also very well see it as a betrayal. He just arrives home after trekking across the world to get back home to you and this is what he returns to? But no one knows him better than you, my friend."

Ashley let out an exasperated sigh, her fingers worried furiously over the pendant. "He'd be livid…You're right."

"Almost always." He smirked as he leaned against the table once again. "But if you're still amenable to unfiltered advice, I'll tell you something else: If I were you, I'd find a loophole."

"Not necessarily my strong suit."

"Of course not. But we do know some clever entrepreneurs who happen to have that particular talent…"

Her expression grew intrigued as she turned towards him. "You want to take it to the Carta."

Zevran shrugged. "No one better in the field of bullshittery, truth be told. And their discretion can be bought for the right price."

"Right. Until a higher bidder comes along, I assume."

"Surprisingly, no. Their new leader has a strict policy on the matter. He seems to think they'll get more…discretionary business if the secret trade is actually trustworthy on their end."

She shot him a skeptical look. "And you would know this because?"

"Now, now, why pay top dollar to keep a secret if you so openly go blabbing it to your friends?"

She shook her head as she slid the contract towards him. "Give them whatever they want."

"And if they ask too much?"

"Then stab them."

"Just checking." Zevran chuckled as he shuffled away from the table. "We should have their demands in the morning."

Before the Spymaster could make it to the door, it burst open in front of him. Aveline stormed in, nearly running Zevran right over. It wasn't a necessarily uncommon way for her to enter a room, the woman always seemed to have an agenda that simply couldn't be delayed. But the fact that she was fully dressed for battle was an unsettling sight. Ashley was seemingly still lost in her thoughts though; she didn't look up when Aveline approached her.

"What's the emergency this time, Captain?" Her voice was full of sass, which did nothing to improve Aveline's mood.

"I'm locking down the estate. Your meeting is over."

"Oh for—What now?"

Aveline slammed her hands down on the table. The gesture startled Ashley into looking up at her. "The Arishok is mounting an invasion."

"What? Now?"

"No, He sent a courtesy invitation. You're expected to RSVP."

Zevran tried to hide his laughter behind a cough, but the Captain picked right up on it. "You: gather your agents and scour the grounds. If anyone breeches the perimeter, eliminate them." She turned back to Ashley, gesturing to her assertively. "And you: get to the vault and stay there."

She stared Aveline down for a short moment before rising from her chair and leaning over the table. "Did you forget who you answer to, Captain?

Aveline mirrored Ashley's actions. "I answer to Malcolm Hawke. And you haven't earned the right to take his place." She vaguely registered a notable change in Ashley's demeanor, but she was far too focused on doing her damned job to care. "Get to the Vault."

Ashley shoved away from the table, the chair behind her was pushed violently to the side. She stormed right passed Zevran as she barked her own orders at him. "Grab your sharpest daggers, Zevran. You're with me."

"Like hell he is." Aveline stomped right after her, taking long strides to catch up to her.

Ashley stood in the middle of the main hall, turning her head towards her own bedroom as she whistled loudly. Sadie darted out of Ashley's room before she had time to turn around. She strode over to the coat rack, shrugging on the overcoat she usually wears to the Magisterium. She ruffled the feathered pauldrons and laced up her fur-covered boots. Sadie dutifully took a seat beside her, awaiting further instructions. "Tell me, Captain. What would my father do?"

She crossed her arms over her chest. "Lockdown the estate and trust me to protect the family."

"You're really going to tell me that Malcolm Hawke wouldn't be out there defending his city, his family, his home and livelihood from aggressive invaders? You clearly don't know the man."

Zevran jogged up to her, donned in his armor with his dragonbone daggers on his hips. He gave her a simple nod and took a place beside Sadie. Aveline shook her head incredulously. "And just what do you think you're doing?"

"Earning my place, Captain. Do you know yours?" Ashley flipped her hood up, securing the black, bird-like mask over her eyes. She summoned the Hawke's Key into the form of a shortsword as she stepped out into the street, readying herself for whatever came her way.

Hightown was suspiciously quiet…the kind of quiet that all but confirmed that an ambush was just around the corner. Normally, it was just a bunch of ragtag bandits—an insignificant threat for a skilled Magister. But tonight was different. A Sarebass caught them off guard. Sadie whimpered in pain as Ashley and Zevran were thrown in to the nearest wall. Her weapon dissipated from her hand as her head collided with the wall. Ashley tried hard to blink the blurriness out of her vision, but she realized far too late that the Sarebass was nearly finished casting his next devastating spell.

She was certain that she was done for, her cockiness had finally caught up with her and she'd have nothing to show for it. But the Sarebass was suddenly knocked down by a charging warrior clad in black plate armor. Aveline wasted no time in executing the enemy mage while he was on the ground. Ashley finally got control of her vision again, she scanned the courtyard to see Zevran and Sadie shaking off the effects of the spell and making their way over to her. She brought her gaze back to Aveline, her snark still all too evident in her tone as she spoke to her. "And just what do you think you're doing, Captain?"

Aveline's eyes narrowed and her expression grew even more serious. "All as one."

_"All as one. You may be a Hawke, but you should never fly alone." Malcolm offered his hand to help Ashley up yet again. "Once more, Sunshine."_

_She shrugged off his help and stood on her own indignantly. She brushed the dirt off of her tattered clothes. The memory reminded her briefly that the Hawkes' will never again have to trade hand-me-downs or steal bread…But was it really worth it? "This is stupid. I don't need anyone."_

_"If that were the case, you'd have no issue knocking me into the dirt. Overconfidence is for the foolish. Trust in your allies. Fight as one."_

_Ashley rolled her eyes, shooting a glance at her siblings. They seemed just as tired of this nonsense as she was, which brought her a small amount of comfort. "And what if we have no allies to fight with, what then?"_

_Malcolm gripped her shoulders tightly, forcing her to focus on him. "Then you have made either a grave mistake or several of them." He let her go and spoke to each of his children. "But either the case: if you find yourself cornered and alone, you have only one option left. You have to fight like the fate of the world depends on it. Because for all you know, it does."_

_Ashley rolled her eyes. "Yeah, I'm sure the Chantry will be begging for our aid during the next great sheep invasion."_

_Malcolm's hand came around the back of her head and smacked her swiftly. "You won't be fighting anything with your wit alone." He nodded towards his children. "Again."_

_The four of them descended upon their father just as they had done countless times before. But Malcolm dodged or parried every potential blow. It was so tiring, so damned maddening…but something suddenly clicked in her head. They attacked simultaneously, but not together. When Garrett slashed at him, Bethany held her icicles for fear of hitting him; When Carver lunged for him, Garrett stepped too wide to give Carver room and brought himself off balance…While Malcolm was distracted with Carver and Garrett, Ashley slunk over to Bethany. She quietly told her to wait for her signal and copy her moves. Ashley waited for the moment she knew was coming, it had happened so many times before, it was nearly precisely predictable now. Malcolm shoved both Carver and Garrett away from him, sending them stumbling back a couple of steps._

_"Now!" Ashley launched herself into an icy charge, aiming herself to go right through Malcolm. Bethany was right after her, coming from a different direction. The dual attack froze their father for just a moment. Carver and Garrett reacted quickly. Carver hit him hard with the pummel of his sword, while Garrett kicked his feet out from under him. The four of them were quick to draw their weapons on him as he laid there in the dirt for once._

_Malcolm laughed heartily; his eyes were nearly overflowing with pride. "You're stronger together, young Hawkes. Remember that."_

"All as one." She agreed. It seemed Malcolm had given her the same speech…Ashley steeled herself to combat the emotion that welled up in her. She hid it well enough as she extended a hand towards Aveline. A slight smile crossed Aveline's otherwise stern features as she shook Ashley's hand.

"No more infighting then? Ah, good. That would have made chopping off the Arishock's head markedly more difficult."

Aveline shook her head at the Spymaster. "Killing the man will only cause further incident."

"Whether the Arishock dies today is solely up to him." Ashley motioned to the large staircase that led to the upper city, where the Viscount's Keep sat. "We confirm Danarius's status first. Then we deal with the Qunari."

"And if we happen to find our illustrious Archon in a…compromised state?" Zevran asked wistfully.

Ashley shot him a slightly amused look. "Then stab him."

Zevran chuckled as he followed behind her, stepping carefully over the Sarebass corpse. "Just the once?"

"If anyone gets the honor of decorating the halls with that bastard's blood, it's going to be me." As they neared the first steps of the stone staircase, Ashley narrowly dodged a thrown spear. It landed uncomfortably close to Sadie, making the mabari growl ferociously. A number of Qunari emerged from the darkened corners of the nearby alcoves, shouting their battle cries. It seemed that the path to their objective would be bloody, but it wouldn't stop them now. "Kill them all."


End file.
